


Donna Smoak Figures it Out

by BstnStrg13



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-08-29 09:49:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8484745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BstnStrg13/pseuds/BstnStrg13
Summary: Donna Smoak is surprised to find evidence that Felicity is sleeping with the Green Arrow when, at the same time, her daughter appears to be rekindling her relationship with Oliver Queen.  Donna puts two and two together -- sort of.





	1. The Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> This story started out as a couple of chapters in "The Physics of Lies." A reader on another board reminded me that the theme might be a bit...mature...for a general rating, and rather than move that entire to collection to "Mature," I've broken this out, polished it up a bit, and made it a stand-alone story. It doesn't really fit with the rest of "Physics" anyway.
> 
> I began this story before S5 started, but have worked on it since then. There are a few elements of S5 but it isn't compliant. I watch "Arrow" faithfully, "The Flash" sporadically, and "Legends" not at all, so I'm not fully up to speed on Earth 2 and alternate timelines. And I miss Baby Sara -- somehow Diggle having a daughter named after Sara felt right. Anyway, there's also no Susan Williams or Detective Malone as alternate love interests. And as much as I'm beginning to like them in S5, no Rene or Rory either.
> 
> Thanks for taking time to read and apologies to "Physics" fans for moving content. I've smoothed it out and added to it, so I'm cautiously optimistic that it's a better story now.

William Dennis stared out the wide expanse of windows on the 35th floor of the Palmer Technologies building. Like most recent meetings of the Palmer Board of Directors, tonight's meeting had not gone well. They had adjourned over an hour ago and the other directors had left, but he couldn't bring himself to head home to the missus just yet. Instead, he stood looking at the twinkling lights of the Star City skyline and thought about the last five months. They'd begun with so much promise but had rapidly deteriorated into a…well… into a shithole. No one had said anything explicitly to him this evening, but he had felt the accusation in the directors' eyes every time they discussed another company failure.

 _Dennis_ , those eyes said, _you fucked up_.

He wanted to remind the wusses calling themselves Palmer Directors that it wasn't just on him; the entire Board had voted for the decision. But that would sound like he was acknowledging a mistake, and he wasn't ready to admit anything yet. It was only five months, after all, and it took a while to get a big company back on track. He hadn't been appointed Chairman for making mistakes. In fact, he liked to think that he had done a pretty damn good job steering the company since Ray Palmer's death. Still, it had been the elephant in the room tonight every time the new CEO had opened his mouth and had nothing useful to say.

_Dennis – you really fucked up when you fired Felicity Smoak._

Hands in his pockets, he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. The last five months had stunk – big time. First, there had been the negative press. He'd expected a blurb in the local papers about Smoak and maybe even a short clip in the Wall Street Journal. Any time the CEO of a Fortune 100 company was dismissed, the business world made note of it. But Felicity Smoak had been CEO for less than a year and hadn't had time to create a strategy, let alone a legacy; she wasn't fucking Bill Gates, for chrissake. So he'd been totally unprepared for the media storm that had been unleashed when he let her go. Within days, every major business magazine had had a photo of Felicity on its cover – looking beautiful, young and intelligent. Jim Cramer had even devoted a full 20 minutes to her on his _Mad Money_ show. All in all, the story may not have been as big as when the Apple Board replaced Steve Jobs, but it had to be a close second.

For several weeks following her dismissal, Dennis had been bombarded with interview requests asking him to explain the Board's decision to remove what appeared to be a highly successful CEO. Two breakthrough products in less than a year, the reporters reminded him. Ray Palmer's chosen successor, they said. Stock price up 40%. What the hell was the Board thinking? Dennis had had to work overtime with the Communications department to come up with answers that didn't sound totally inane.

Almost as bad as the barrage from the media was the reaction from all those fucking women's organizations. Not only was the business world weighing in on his decision to fire Smoak, but he now had at least five local feminist groups on his back as well. The whole, tired story about pay inequity and the lack of women in the C-suite was raised again, and he was now the poster boy for gender bias in the corporate world. The female employees at Palmer had formed a support group that met twice a month and he was greeted by baleful looks from everyone who didn't have a penis – including his own secretary (excuse me, administrative assistant). Christ, even his daughter had called from college to say that girls on campus were organizing rallies in support of Felicity Smoak. Dennis had upped the security on his home just in case he woke one morning to find a sign-waving bitch on the front lawn.

Still…he might have been able to weather it all if it weren't for the ugly, sneaking suspicion that he really had screwed up. In reviewing Palmer's staffing numbers tonight, it was apparent that not only was Felicity Smoak a technical genius, but she had inspired tremendous loyalty as well. People were quitting Palmer in droves, including many of the brains behind the company's latest and greatest inventions. Dennis had personally reached out to Curtis Holt and offered him an obscene amount of money to stay on as Palmer's Chief Technology Officer. Holt had thanked Dennis politely but then firmly declined the offer, saying only that he was taking time to assess his next career move. Holt _hadn't_ said that he was still working with Felicity Smoak, but Dennis was certain that the two of them met regularly. Private detectives he'd hired to follow her reported that Holt visited her frequently in her loft. It was one of the few social interactions Felicity seemed to have. Other than going to see Oliver Queen in the mayor's office - more often than was appropriate for a couple who had broken up publicly, Dennis thought – Felicity was keeping a low profile.

He needed to find a way to fix to fix this mess or he suspected he wasn't going to be Chairman much longer. The company's annual meeting was coming up in two months and it was conceivable that the shareholders would vote him out. In a desperate move a few weeks ago, he'd sent a letter to Palmer's investors explaining Felicity Smoak's unwillingness to capitalize on the world-beating invention that was the microchip in her spine. She was sitting on a near-miracle, he'd written, worth literally hundreds of billions of dollars. The stock price up 40% was nothing; it could easily increase 400% - hell, 4000% if they marketed the chip well and sold it at the right price! Anyone holding a decent number of shares would be able to retire a wealthy person. By wanting to find a way to make the chip affordable, Felicity Smoak was literally taking millions out of each of their portfolios.

Even that move had backfired. The letter was leaked on the internet within a day, and in an era where people were up in arms over price gouging for Epipens, Felicity Smoak became a hero – a modern-day Robin Hood. The blasted woman was Teflon.

Gazing out the window, Dennis wondered what the bitch was up to now. There had to be some way to neutralize her without actually making her disappear. What he needed was to discredit her – to make the world see that she wasn't the altruistic, brilliant woman she appeared to be.

Her association with Oliver Queen gave him an idea. He'd always been surprised by that relationship; an intelligent, ambitious young woman hooked up with a reformed and no longer wealthy playboy. It had made him wonder whether there was another side to Felicity Smoak – a wilder, more dangerous side that few people ever saw. He could use that, he decided, to his advantage. The beginnings of a plan were forming in his brain.

Feeling better about the evening, William Dennis headed for the elevator. Oh his way, he called his wife and asked her to have a whiskey on the rocks waiting for him at home.

* * *

 

_Two days later…._

Felicity hurriedly locked the door to her car and tried not to run to the entrance of Oliver's campaign headquarters. It wouldn't do to look too eager. She was aware that there were two PIs tailing her and she was pretty sure they had been hired by Mr. Dennis. She couldn't have them figuring out what really went on with the Green Arrow all those floors below HQ, so she tried to maintain the ruse of being there to crunch data in support of Oliver's bid to transition from interim to permanent mayor in the upcoming special election.

Over the last two months she'd perfected a series of activities designed to convince the detectives that she'd be hunkered down for hours, slogging away tediously on the computer. In the beginning, they'd watched her intently from their parked car; lately, however, boredom had taken over and they'd make their way to the bar down the street, popping their heads out occasionally to check that her car was still there. Tonight was no different. She waited until the two men walked toward _Joey's Saloon_ and then sprinted for the elevator, anxious to see if Oliver had arrived early.

It was a strange how their positions had reversed, she thought. Six months ago, Oliver had been jobless and her days had been fully occupied with running Palmer Tech. Now he was in _his_ office from morning til night and she was the one with time to spare. Maybe it was her idleness that made her eager to see him in the evenings. Maybe it was the knowledge that she and Curtis were his only support when he went out as the Green Arrow. With Digg out of town, Thea out of the action, and Laurel – sadly - passed away, he needed her more than ever. Whatever the reason, she found she couldn't wait to see him most nights. She felt drawn to the lair as if she were the south pole of a magnet, inexorably pulled to his north. The attraction was constant and unrelenting – a fundamental force of nature.

Of course she'd made it clear to Oliver that helping him did not mean she wanted to resume their romantic relationship. Those things she had said months ago about him not knowing how to lean on his partner still held. But that also didn't mean, she'd explained, that she wanted to see him get hurt. She was in the lair because she had his back - and would always have his back, no matter what. And he'd responded by telling her that he would respect her wishes.

Lately, there were times she thought he respected her wishes a little too much. After a particularly successful evening fighting crime, for example, there was nothing wrong with a congratulatory hug or even a short peck on the lips. Two colleagues who had been through thick and thin together for four years could celebrate that way without giving rise to an expectation of more. They were mature adults; she was certain they both could handle brief moments of physical contact. But Oliver carefully kept his distance. The most she ever got these days was a warm smile and a heartfelt "thank you, Felicity." She often wished she hadn't made her position on reconciling quite so clear.

She stepped out of the elevator and was disappointed to find the lair empty; no Oliver, no Curtis. Still, it was early. Seating herself in front her of computer, she was just about to scan local video footage for possible crimes when her cell phone began vibrating in her purse. She was surprised to see that the call was from Mr. Dennis. She hadn't heard a word from the ass since the night he'd fired her; anything to do with Palmer Tech subsequent to that – the severance package and the non-compete agreement – had all been handled by Palmer's lawyers. It seemed strange that he would call her now; she couldn't imagine what he might have to say. Of course there were the detectives he had following her, but she was confident she hadn't given them anything interesting to report.

She stared at the phone for a good ten seconds. Dennis could go fuck himself, she thought. She'd done a good job at Palmer and he'd thrown her out on her ear. Whatever he had to say, she didn't want to hear it.

Then curiosity got the better of her. She tapped her phone to answer.

"Hello?" she said neutrally, as if she had no idea who was calling. There was no point in letting Dennis know she still had his number in her contacts. It would make her look desperate.

"Felicity Smoak?"

"Yes, this is Felicity." Her voice was bland, giving nothing away. If Dennis wanted something from her, he was going to have to work for it. She waited.

There was an awkward pause while the Palmer Tech Chairman realized that Felicity Smoak appeared to have forgotten all about him, or at least was refusing to acknowledge him. Finally he said, "This is William Dennis. From the Palmer Board of Directors? I realize it's been a while since we talked."

"Oh, Mr. Dennis. What a surprise. It certainly has been a while – about five months, I think." Despite her efforts, she could hear a little bitterness creeping into her tone. "I believe our last conversation was you firing me and having the guards escort me out of my office at Palmer Tech."

Another awkward pause. "Well, er, yes, I suppose it was," Dennis said slowly. He cleared his throat. "Would it help _this_ conversation now if I told you I think I could have handled that situation better?"

Felicity frowned, caught off guard. She wanted to say "not at all" in her loud voice, except she thought she could detect some contrition in the man's tone and she believed him to be sincere. She'd read enough about the media's response to her dismissal to assume Dennis might indeed wish he'd handled things differently. He'd been called a lot of names in the business blogs, with _Complete Idiot_ being one of the kinder ones. No matter how thick-skinned you were, that had to get to you.

On the other hand, she thought, he really _was_ an ass and leopards didn't change their spots that easily. She shook her head. "I don't know if there's _anything_ you can say to help this conversation, Mr. Dennis," she replied firmly. "No matter how you guild the lily, a firing is still a firing." She glanced at the clock; 6:45. Oliver would be arriving in no more than 45 minutes. "Look, I really need to get to work on Oliver's campaign. Is there a reason you're calling? If it's about the non-compete agreement, I can assure you I'm honoring it."

Dennis cleared his throat again. "Felicity, I'm not calling about the non-compete agreement. The reason I'm calling is that I…that is, _The Board…_ thinks we may have been a little hasty with your dismissal. Looking at our results over the last five months, it's clear you were more effective as CEO than we gave you credit for. I was hoping you might be willing to talk – to explore options for returning to Palmer Tech."

She nearly fell out of her chair. She certainly wasn't expecting that. She'd tapped Dennis as the kind of man who would swallow a hand grenade rather than admit he'd made a mistake.

She smiled cautiously. "I'm sorry. Did you just say you'd be interested in me returning to Palmer Tech? In what role, exactly? As CEO again?"

Dennis hesitated, and then said, "Felicity, I'd rather not discuss this on the phone. This is the kind of talk we should have face to face. If you don't mind, I'd like to meet with you at Palmer Tech, in your old office. I can tell you then the options the Board is considering."

Felicity's smile faded and she was right back to _Dennis is an ass_. Rather than tell her over the phone, he was going to make her stew on it for a couple of days and then go in as if it were a job interview. He was going to expect her to apologize for something or concede something, and there was no way in hell she was going to concede anything to that man. She was ready to tell him "no" when she paused.

Because…on the other hand…what did she have to lose, really? She didn't have anything pressing on her calendar. If the meeting turned out to be a mistake – well, she could tell Dennis he was an ass to his face and get out of there. And if there was a tiny chance she might actually get her job back…she had to take it.

"Fine," she agreed. "I'll be there. What day did you want me to come in?"

"Actually," Dennis's voice was cautious. "I was hoping you could stop by tonight…now, in fact."

"Now?" That didn't feel right. A tiny alarm bell started going off in her head. Most of the people at Palmer would have left for the day. She would be meeting with Dennis alone.

"I don't think…" she began.

Dennis interrupted her. "Look, Felicity," he said with a sigh, "You may not believe it, but this is as uncomfortable for me as it is for you. I was hoping for a chance for the two of us to talk without giving rise to office gossip and speculation. If you come in now, it will save us both embarrassment. If you like what I have to say, we can make our meetings more official in the future."

Felicity looked at the clock again; 6:50. If she left now, she could probably get to Palmer Tech, talk with Dennis, and be back to the lair by 7:45. Hell, some nights Oliver didn't even get there until 8:00. As for the tiny alarm bell; Dennis was a jerk, but he was also Chairman of Palmer's Board of Directors. He wasn't Malcolm Merlyn or Damien Darhk. She might be annoyed by the meeting, but she wouldn't be physically threatened.

"Okay," she said reluctantly. "I'll be there in 20 minutes."

She could hear the relief in his voice. "Thank you, Felicity. I'll see you in your office."

"You mean, what used to be my office."

He chuckled softly. "Who knows? Maybe it could be _your_ office again." Before she could say anything further, he hung up.

Picking up her purse, Felicity took the elevator back upstairs and walked out of headquarters. At least she was going to make the private detectives earn their pay tonight, she thought. With a wicked grin, she got into her car and revved the engine, peeling away from the curb with a respectable screech. She glanced in the review mirror just in time to see the two detectives staring open-mouthed from the door of the bar.

* * *

 

As soon as she arrived at her old office at Palmer Tech, Felicity knew that meeting Dennis was a mistake. His effort at reconciliation might have been halfway convincing on the phone, but seeing him in person made it clear that the man had lied through his teeth. He looked both furtive and a little smug, and she could tell immediately that he had _not_ asked her there to talk about coming back as CEO. So why the hell _had_ he called her?

The tiny alarm bell in her brain resumed ringing.

It didn't take long for him to get to the point. When he was a dozen feet away, Dennis pulled a pistol out from under his jacket and aimed it at her. She was surprised; as much as she'd thought him an ass, she'd never figured him to be the type to threaten violence. Now she had to reconsider her assumption about not being physically harmed. "Your cell phone please, Felicity," he said coldly.

She did her best to look confused. It really wasn't that hard – Dennis had caught her off balance. "I'm sorry?"

He snorted impatiently. "Don't play dumb. Give me your cell phone. I can't have you calling someone to your rescue while _we_ have our conversation. I'd like to make sure no one interrupts us." He held out his empty hand, keeping the gun trained on her with the other.

Felicity glanced toward the elevator. She thought briefly about making a run for it, but Dennis looked deadly serious. She sighed in resignation and walked over to hand her phone to him.

He stuffed it into his suit coat pocket. "Thank you."

And almost immediately, the phone started vibrating. Dennis looked at her suspiciously, then pulled it out of his pocket to stare at it. His brow furrowed for a few seconds but then his confusion appeared to clear. "Ah," he said. "It's a call from Mr. Holt. I had a feeling the two of you were staying close. Whatever he wants to talk about, I'm sure you can get back to him later." He tapped the phone with his thumb to end the call and grinned at her. "Well," he added slyly, "almost sure. I suppose that depends on how cooperative you are." He slid the phone into his pocket once more.

 _Almost sure_ didn't bode well, Felicity thought. She studied Dennis, trying to control her nerves and think logically. As much as she hated to give him the satisfaction of doing _anything_ he said, she wanted first and foremost to walk out of there alive. Buying time by talking seemed like a good start.

"So how exactly do you want me to cooperate?" she asked conversationally. "The fact that you're pointing a gun at me suggests you don't think I'll like what you're going to say."

Dennis grinned again. "Unfortunately, I don't think you will." He paused and added, "But you're a smart woman, even if you are a stubborn one. You'll see you don't have many options."

Well, that wasn't terribly illuminating. "Suppose I don't agree," Felicity asked, even though she had no idea what those limited options might be. "What's your backup plan? Killing me?" Damn. She hadn't meant to jump to the part about killing that quickly. _Way to keep the conversation going, Felicity_.

Dennis laughed harshly. "Ms. Smoak, I certainly don't _want_ to kill you. This is business, not personal. There's nothing to be gained by your death. The gun is just…motivation."

"Motivation for what?"

The smile left Dennis's face and he said almost menacingly, "In case you haven't noticed, Felicity, you've got a real following. Consensus in the business world is that you were a very promising CEO and the employees at Palmer all respect you. In fact, many of them have quit since you left. Profits are down and the shareholders are getting nervous. It's become a problem for me – it makes me look like I made a bad decision when I fired you."

 _That's because you did, you ass_. "And you think I can fix that?" she asked. "What is it that you want me to do? You want me to tell the business world that I _deserved_ to be fired – that you made a good decision? Or maybe you want me to pretend that I left voluntarily."

He shrugged. "In a way, a little of both." He walked over to her former desk and leaned casually against it. "I want you to help me discredit you… to damage your reputation in way that will make the firing make sense."

"Huh?" She didn't have to pretend to be confused by that one.

Dennis laid the gun down on the desk, keeping it within reach. After a moment, he sighed. "There's a short list of reasons for a Board to fire a CEO," he explained patiently, as if he were teaching class at a business school. "CEOs are let go for poor company performance, a major ethical breach, or some kind of personal issue that makes it difficult for him or her to carry out his duties." He stared at her thoughtfully. "In your case," he continued, "company performance was strong and I doubt the employees or the public will believe there was an ethics violation. Your position on keeping the spinal chip affordable has made you a saint in everyone's eyes." He shrugged his shoulders. "Which leaves us with the personal issue."

He reached for the gun again, and with his other hand picked up a syringe off the desk. Felicity wondered why she hadn't noticed it before; it was a pretty big syringe.

"If the public were to learn that you had, say, a drug problem," Dennis continued, "people would understand why the Board needed to dismiss you. Many people are successful at hiding substance abuse issues for a while, but they eventually become known. And they make it impossible to carry out the duties of a CEO."

Felicity shook her head. "I don't think people are going to buy that I have a substance abuse problem. I met a lot of people when I was CEO and I was clearly not drugged at the time. And, as you say, I was pretty successful at my job."

Dennis smiled wickedly. "Oh, you'd be surprised how effective one public slip up and a well-timed rumor can be. I'm confident my plan," he waved the syringe, "will get people to believe it. After all, you _were_ engaged to the ultimate party boy, Oliver Queen. You were bound to pick up some bad habits."

"No one thinks of Oliver that way anymore. The city even asked him to be mayor."

Dennis nodded. "True. And if that point comes up, then we'll spin the story to say that _he_ cleaned up his act but _you_ couldn't do the same. It's the reason he broke off your engagement." He straightened up from the desk and started walking toward her, gun in one hand and the syringe in the other. "We've talked about this long enough, Felicity. What's it going to be? Shall we do this the easy way or the hard way? One little injection and a well-meaning stranger can find you drugged out somewhere in the Glades. It will be embarrassing, of course, but you'll still be alive. The shareholders will think I made a good decision, and in a couple of years you can claim to have gone through rehab and restart your career. We both win."

Felicity stared at the bright yellow-green liquid in the syringe. She was pretty sure it was Vertigo. "Suppose you're wrong?" she asked sharply. "Suppose I die from that stuff?"

Dennis sighed. "Then unfortunately you'll be another addict who overdosed. It happens sometimes."

She glanced at the clock. She had managed to keep Dennis talking for fifteen minutes. She had hoped that would be enough time, but evidently she needed to buy a little more. "I think," she said, backing away from him and looking for something to throw, "that we'll have to do this the hard way. I'm not too crazy about needles."

Dennis shrugged. "Suit yourself."

* * *

 

Oliver left the mayor's office with a spring in his step and a grin on his face. He'd managed to leave 20 minutes early, which would get him to the lair before 7:30 for a change. He was looking forward to seeing the surprised expression on Felicity's face when he got off the elevator.

Working with her these last couple of months had been both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because he'd had the chance to see her smiling face almost every night and she was looking at him with more congeniality than she'd shown in a long time. A curse because it was getting harder and harder to walk away from her at the end of the evening. Most nights he wanted nothing more than to sweep her up in his arms and kiss the bejesus out of her, despite what she'd said about not wanting to resume a romantic relationship. He was sure he would have made a move already if it weren't for the presence of Curtis in the lair. The attraction he felt toward her - both physical and emotional – was stronger than ever.

He noticed this evening that Felicity's car wasn't in its usual spot by campaign headquarters. The street looked busy, though, so maybe she'd been forced to park further away. That wasn't necessarily bad; it would give him the chance to tell her he was worried about her walking alone at night followed by the suggestion that he walk with her. A few more minutes of Felicity-time before going home.

He had to rethink that plan, however, when the elevator doors opened and he was greeted only by Curtis in the lair. His disappointment was acute.

"Where's Felicity?" Oliver asked, striding over to the computers.

"Well, good evening, Oliver," Curtis responded with a grin. "It's nice to see you, too."

Oliver shook his head, no longer in a mood for humor. He'd been so looking forward to seeing her. "Where's Felicity?" he repeated.

Curtis shrugged. "Obviously, not here yet."

Oliver frowned. "She's usually the first one to arrive. Did she tell you she was going to be late? She didn't call me." A list of unattractive possibilities ran through his head, including a car accident, a kidnapping, and a meeting with an attractive man who asked her out for a drink.

Curtis shook his head. "No, I didn't hear from her. She probably just got held up in traffic."

"Try calling her."

Curtis laughed dryly. "I believe you have a phone, too, Oliver. You call her."

Oliver hesitated. He preferred the call to come from Curtis. "It's better if you phone her," he explained. "I don't want her to think I'm keeping tabs on her whereabouts. As her ex-boyfriend, it seems stalker-ish. She might not like it."

Curtis stared at Oliver for a few seconds, then rolled his eyes and exhaled heavily. "God help me, the two of you drive me crazy." He picked up his phone but then paused. "Why can't you guys just make up already? The whole atmosphere in the lair these days is so charged with sexual tension that we could transmit electricity, and it's getting worse, not better. You love her, she loves you…figure it out. Hell, if this is what Diggle had to put up with for four years, I can see why he re-enlisted."

Oliver gave him his best _Green_ _Arrow_ stare. "Just call Felicity, Curtis."

"Fine. I'm calling."

After a few seconds, Curtis put his phone down. "She didn't take the call," he said, puzzled.

"You mean she didn't answer?"

"No, I mean she cut the call off after a couple of rings. You know, tapped the red _don't answer_ button."

Oliver felt a twinge of anxiety. That didn't sound like Felicity. If she were busy, she typically answered just to say that she'd call back later. And in this case, she would have known that the call had come from Curtis - which made it doubly likely that she would answer. "Can you trace her phone?" he asked.

Curtis rolled his eyes again. "Oh, that's not stalker-ish at all," he said, giving Oliver an amused grin. He turned to the computer and tapped a few keys. After a moment he added more soberly, "That's odd. She's at the Palmer Tech building."

"Why would she go there?"

Curtis shook his head. "I have no idea." He glanced at Oliver, all the teasing gone from his expression. "Hang on, I'm going to try something." He tapped the computer keys once more and frowned. "I think someone else might have Felicity's phone," he said worriedly. "We've been testing some biometric recognition code that she wrote a few weeks ago. The phone is programmed to recognize her palm and finger prints, as well as yours and mine. If any of us picks up the phone – fine. If someone else picks it up, it sends an alarm back here." He pointed to a red, blinking icon in a corner of his computer screen. "As you can see, the alarm is going off right now."

"So someone else has her phone?"

"Most likely, yes."

It was enough for Oliver. Felicity never handed her phone to anyone. "I'm going to Palmer," he said shortly.

* * *

 

Oliver weaved anxiously through the traffic on his bike. He had hated taking the extra three minutes to suit-up in his Arrow gear when Felicity could be in danger, but given that he might need to fight, it seemed the safer choice. It wouldn't be a good idea to have the mayor caught on a security camera punching someone out. Fortunately, Palmer was not far from his campaign headquarters and he managed to get there in 10 minutes, his heart pounding the entire time.

"Do you know where she is in the Palmer building?" he asked Curtis over the com-link.

"It looks like she's in her old office."

Oliver groaned. Her office was on the 40th floor – a lot of stairs to run. He opted for the elevator, sprinting past an astonished security guard and smashing the _Up_ button. The door opened almost immediately and the ride up couldn't have lasted more than 30 seconds, but it seemed an eternity. He felt his stomach churn with anxiety and was reminded of a similar elevator ride years ago, when this was still the Queen Consolidated building and Felicity had been abducted by Count Vertigo. He hoped she wasn't in as much danger this time.

It turned out that she was. Oliver stepped out of the elevator to see Felicity in her office, facing a man holding both a gun and a syringe. She looked frightened and a little angry, and she was dodging and throwing things with surprising dexterity given the height of her heels. The man was vaguely familiar, although Oliver could not immediately recall his name or his association with Felicity. He was dressed in a business suit and, apart from the gun, looked respectable enough. Oliver had no idea why he would be threatening her, but at the moment the _why_ didn't really matter. Explanations could come later, when Felicity was safe. Neither of them appeared to notice his arrival.

Without hesitating, he nocked two arrows and shot the man in both forearms simultaneously. The gun and syringe fell to the floor, and the man howled in pain. He turned toward Oliver with an anguished expression, which transformed into bewilderment as he recognized the Green Arrow.

"You?" the man spat out. "You're a friend of hers, too?" He shook his head. "Hell, that would have been as good as Vertigo, if I'd known. _Felicity Smoak is an ally of the Green Arrow_. I could have used that as the excuse for firing her – the shareholders wouldn't have been happy about the CEO associating with the city's vigilante."

Oliver felt his brow crease. The reason the man had been pointing a gun at Felicity had something to do with her being fired from her job as CEO of Palmer? Oliver had automatically assumed it was related to her _Arrow_ duties, but that was clearly not the case. Suddenly, he recognized the man; William Dennis, Chairman of Palmer's Board of Directors. Why would the Chairman be threatening Felicity with a gun and Vertigo? Confident that the man had been neutralized, he turned toward her, hoping for an explanation.

And then he nearly dropped his bow. Because the expression on Felicity's face was one he hadn't seen in a very long time. It was the look she used to give him years ago, when she trusted and believed in him completely; before he'd lied to her about his son, before they'd even become a couple. She was staring at him with gratitude and hope and confidence, and he felt a warmth flow through his body as if he'd swallowed a shot of whiskey. He forgot to care about the explanation. He almost forgot about Dennis. The urge to pull her to his chest and kiss her was overwhelming.

He basked in her expression for a few seconds before recalling that they had company. He'd always taken precautions to never let the world to know that The Arrow cared for a woman, and he didn't want Dennis to see that caring now. Besides, the man had been waving around a gun and a syringe and needed to be contained. The smart thing would be to wait here until the police came to arrest Dennis, and then go back to the lair with Felicity to talk about it.

He didn't feel like being smart. He felt like seizing the moment.

He walked over to Dennis, and with a hard fist to the jaw, knocked the man unconscious. Then he went to Felicity and gently rested his hands on her shoulders.

"You're all right?" he asked.

"Fine," she answered. She hesitated, and then added softly, "I knew you'd get here. Thank you."

He shook his head. "You know you never need to thank me for this. I'll always come for you."

To his surprise, that last sentence caused her eyes to fill with tears, luminous behind her glasses. She was silent, and he wondered if she were feeling the same whirlwind of emotions that he was. There was only one way to find out. Slowly, hesitantly, he lowered his face to hers, watching her reaction. She didn't move to meet him, but she didn't move away either. It was enough encouragement for Oliver.

He kissed her – gently at first, the barest whisper of a touch. Even with the light contact, he felt a jolt through his body, like an electric current coursing through his veins. Her hand came up, and for a moment Oliver was afraid she was going to push him away. But instead she clutched his hood, pulling him closer, making sure his face remained hidden from the security camera. He deepened the kiss, his lips moving more forcefully over hers until they were both breathless and he could feel Felicity trembling slightly.

Reluctantly, he broke contact. "This probably isn't a good idea," he said quietly. "I'm sure this is being caught on video somewhere."

Felicity smiled. "Actually, I'm guessing Dennis turned the security cameras off so there'd be no evidence of him threatening me. When we get back to the lair, though, I'll hack them just to make sure."

Her smile – the smile she saved only for him - was too much for Oliver. Before he could stop himself, he leaned down and kissed her again. He kissed her because she was beautiful and smart, and because he now knew he could. He could feel the electricity flowing between them, lighting up his nerve endings, making him feel more alive than he had in months. After a few, too short minutes, they broke apart.

"I'll call Lance about him," Oliver gestured to the unconscious Dennis. "Then we can head back to the lair and you can check the cameras."

"Okay."

Oliver pulled out his phone, but was startled by a short crackle in his ear before he made the call. He had forgotten all about Curtis on the coms. "I have a better idea," Curtis's voice said dryly. "Why don't _I_ hack the security footage since I'm already in the lair? Call Lance, and then - for the sake of my sanity - you two go find a room."

* * *

 

Donna Smoak was seething as she took the elevator to Felicity's loft. Her visit had been planned for a month and she'd texted her daughter multiple times over the past week with a reminder to pick her up at the airport. Each text had generated the same response: _Got it, mom, I'll be there_. People said it wasn't possible to pick up nuances in a text, but Donna was fairly sure there had been an element of sarcasm in Felicity's response. The girl had a habit of telling her mother that, between the two of them, she was the far more reliable Smoak. _Got it mom_ was her way of saying _I'm the responsible one, of course I'll be there_.

So where the hell was she this morning? After getting up at an ungodly hour for the short flight from Vegas to Star City, Donna had expected to see Felicity waiting outside the baggage claim area, preferably wearing a smile and holding a large, caramel macchiato. Instead, her daughter had been nowhere in sight and Donna had watched her fellow passengers accept hugs from loved ones for nearly an hour while she repeatedly called and texted – and received absolutely no response. Eventually, she'd given up and taken a cab ride with an exorbitant fare into the city. She planned to give her daughter a piece of her mind when the two of them finally connected. The girl was unemployed and separated from a perfectly good boyfriend; she had plenty of time to pick up her mother.

Donna's anger lessened once she was actually standing outside the door to the loft. When no one answered the bell after a dozen rings, it occurred to her that there was a chance Felicity hadn't shown up at the airport because she was in some kind of trouble, not because she had forgotten. Her daughter had revealed a few months ago that she worked with the Green Arrow - a recipe for danger if ever there was one. Donna had been upset, to say the least. To know that her usually sensible daughter was putting herself at risk by helping a masked crusader was bound to add wrinkles to a mother's face and grey hairs to her head (although the hairdresser could help with that). Donna had even wondered whether the vigilante was a factor in Felicity's breakup with Oliver Queen. Felicity had insisted she and Oliver had separated over a lie, but Donna had a feeling it was more complicated than that. After all, what couple didn't occasionally fib to each other? Anyone could see that Oliver and Felicity were meant to be. It had to have been something significant to tear them apart, and the Green Arrow fit that bill.

She decided to enter the loft. If Felicity wasn't there, she'd call Oliver and tell him about her concerns. She punched the code into the security system and cautiously opened the door.

To her relief, everything looked perfectly normal on the first floor. There didn't seem to be anything out of place; no furniture turned over, no sign of a break-in. The sun beamed cheerfully through the windows and the loft was quiet, almost sleepy. Donna felt a little foolish for thinking the worst and decided to call Felicity one more time before trying Oliver. She tapped her daughter's name in her contacts list and was surprised to hear the muffled tone of a cell phone ringing somewhere inside the loft. Following the sound, she located the phone in Felicity's purse, lying at the bottom of the stairs to the second floor.

Donna frowned. It wasn't like Felicity to drop her purse just anywhere.

Far more disturbing, however, was the quiver of arrows lying next to it. The Green Arrow was here.

Her fears returned in a rush and Donna began to call Oliver…but then stopped. She needed to think this through carefully because there was a chance she could make things worse between him and her daughter. If the Green Arrow really did play a role in their separation, telling Oliver that Felicity was holed up with the vigilante now might kill any chance of them reconciling. She needed to be really certain that Felicity was in some kind of danger. Thus far, she'd seen a quiver of arrows; she hadn't seen the man himself. Knowing Felicity's love for technology, she might have brought the arrows home to add some kind of tracking device to them. There could be a perfectly logical explanation.

Donna slowly began climbing the stairs, holding her breath and listening closely for voices. She heard nothing. About halfway up she was startled to see a few red drops splattered on one of the steps. It looked for all the world like blood, and she started to climb faster. Was this a sign that Felicity was hurt? Or was The Arrow hurt and Felicity had brought him home to nurse a wound? Donna reached the top of the stairs and raised her phone.

And then stopped.

The second floor hallway was littered with a trail of clothing. It began at the top of the stairs and continued all the way to Felicity's bedroom – with items scattered at regular intervals along the way. First, there was a pair of black, high-heeled pumps lying adjacent to a green, hooded jacket. A few yards farther, there was a red, sleeveless dress (Felicity always looked good in red), tangled up with a black, long-sleeved tee shirt and an eye-mask. Farther still, Donna came across a bra and pair of panties (Felicity's taste in lingerie had improved), and a pair of men's boots. She couldn't help noticing that the man's feet were not at all small.

Donna bit her lip angrily; she may not have earned a degree from MIT, but she had a pretty good idea of what this yard sale added up to. It added up to her daughter making a huge mistake with the Green Arrow. She kept going.

And nearly tripped over the green leather pants lying in the doorway to the bedroom. For a few seconds she believed The Arrow went commando before she spied a pair of black, boxer briefs lying at the foot of the bed. The boxer-briefs made sense because, really, what else _could_ you wear under pants that tight and not have lines? The final kicker was when Donna discovered that what she'd assumed to be blood on the stairs was actually a few drops of a very nice pinot noir. The empty wine bottle and two glasses were on the bedside table.

The bed itself was empty – thankfully. As much as Donna was ready to chew out her daughter and The Arrow, finding them in flagrante delicto was something she preferred to avoid. She could hear the shower running energetically in the master bathroom and noticed the steam billowing out from under the door. That explained them not hearing the doorbell. They must have been in there quite a while, she thought, because condensation was beginning to form on the bedroom mirror.

Donna stood in the bedroom, bewildered and angry. It was her heart's desire that Felicity reunite with Oliver Queen. The two of them belonged together and she had always believed they would find their way back to each other. To find her daughter with another man – and the Green Arrow at that – was a huge disappointment. One thing was for certain; when she got her daughter alone, she was going to tell her the enormity of her mistake. But for the moment, there was nothing she could do and the smartest move seemed to be a hasty retreat before she was discovered.

Donna started to leave the bedroom, but was brought up short by sound she hadn't heard in a long time. It came from the bathroom, and it was Felicity giggling – a carefree, happy laugh that Donna hadn't heard in months.

She shook her head. Getting Felicity back with Oliver was going to be tougher than she'd thought.


	2. The Explanation

Donna Smoak stared at the clock in the small Star City coffee shop. It was just after noon, about three hours since she'd left Felicity's loft after finding her daughter _otherwise engaged_ with the Green Arrow. She wondered whether three hours was the right amount of time to allot a city's vigilante for boinking your offspring or if she should wait a little longer before going back to see her. Felicity's laugh behind the bathroom door had sounded so happy that she'd hated to interrupt. In the last year, her daughter had been shot, lost her job, and separated from Oliver Queen; if anyone deserved a little fun, it was Felicity. In finding that fun with the Green Arrow, however, Donna was pretty sure Felicity was making a mistake and needed a good talking to before things went too far. Donna had nothing against occasional, casual sex; just not with masked, save-the-city crusading types who were surrounded by danger. Plus, the fact that the Green Arrow had revealed his identity to Felicity suggested that this _thing_ – whatever it was - might not be so casual. And Donna didn't think there was any chance it would end well.

After quietly exiting the loft, she'd immediately sought out Oliver. She needed to know if he had already learned of Felicity's extracurricular activity, and - if he had – whether he'd decided that reconciliation was now out of the question. If he was still in the dark about her recent fling, then Donna had intended to tell the boy to get his ass in gear and figure out how to make things right ASAP. Time was a-wasting. Everyone in the world could see that the two of them were right for each other and she wanted her daughter back in a happy, _healthy_ relationship – not one loaded with risk and danger. Oh, yeah…and she eventually wanted grandkids, too.

Unfortunately, when she'd gotten to Oliver's office one of his interns had told her that Mayor Queen had not come in that morning and had, in fact, cancelled all appointments for the day. When Donna had pressed for Mr. Queen's whereabouts, the pimply-faced kid had merely shrugged his shoulders and given her a _who knows?_ stare. Either his staff was trained not say anything, Donna had thought, or Oliver played hooky fairly regularly and they had given up inventing cover stories. She'd felt a small prickle of fear. Suppose Oliver already knew about Felicity and The Green Arrow or…worse…had found someone else, too, and was spending the day with _her_? As much as she knew he loved Felicity, a man could only wait so long before looking elsewhere. She'd tried texting him several times but so far hadn't received a reply.

After leaving Oliver's office she'd taken a walk, done a little shoe shopping, and had eventually spent the last hour drinking coffee in this small, cheery shop, growing anxious and over-caffeinated. Every time she was about to leave and head back to the loft, she imagined finding Felicity in the throes of ecstasy with a tall, well-built man who wasn't Oliver and decided she'd wait another half hour. As she started on her third latte (she really should have switched to decaf), her eye was drawn to the news bulletin on the flat-screen television hanging on the wall next to the menu board. Whatever the story was about, the man featured looked vaguely familiar. She pushed aside her coffee and paid closer attention.

" _William Dennis, Chairman of the Board of Directors for Palmer Technology, was arrested last night for possession of illegal drugs and an unregistered firearm."_ The news reader's voice was bland, as if Fortune 100 Board Chairmen were arrested every day. They must teach that voice in broadcasting school, Donna thought. Now she knew why she recognized the man, though. William Dennis was the jerk who'd fired Felicity from her well-deserved position as CEO of Palmer. Donna remained indignant about that, almost six months later. Her daughter had done an amazing job carrying on Ray Palmer's legacy and in return the Board had thrown her out without so much as a _thank you;_ albeit, with a decent severance package. And now it appeared their Chairman was a gun-toting druggie. No wonder he'd made such a stupid decision. Donna got up from her table and stepped closer to the television to better hear the news bulletin.

" _Star City police received a tip around 7:30 pm yesterday that Dennis was seen in the executive offices of Palmer Tech with a gun. When the SCPD arrived at Palmer, they found Dennis in possession of an unregistered handgun as well as a syringe of Vertigo. He was taken into custody and released this morning on $100,000 bail. A spokesperson for Palmer Tech told Channel 10 News that the company is awaiting additional facts before making a statement. Our sources tell us that the police were tipped off by the Green Arrow, although they could shed no light on the reasons for the Star City vigilante's interest in Dennis. While the Green Arrow has focused primarily on street crime lately, he has been known to target corrupt businessmen and politicians, leading to questions about Dennis's activities. Stay tuned to Channel 10 for further updates."_

Donna frowned. So the Green Arrow had tipped the police off about Dennis last night and then found his way to Felicity's loft sometime later? She wondered whether the two events were connected. Up until this morning, Donna hadn't given much thought to her daughter's relationship with the vigilante beyond the fact that it put her in danger. She'd always imagined the two of them exactly as she'd seen them during Darhk's missile attack a few months ago – fighting desperately to save lives in the midst of a crisis. She'd never thought about them having down-time and everyday conversations about things that were going on in their lives, like Felicity's job or favorite pizza toppings. It seemed too mundane, too regular. Had Felicity told the Green Arrow about Dennis firing her and had he, in return, tried to do her a favor by investigating the man?

Donna continued to stare at the television screen even though the news reader had moved onto another story. When Felicity had told Donna that she worked with the Green Arrow, Donna had assumed the assistance was one-sided; Felicity lending her technical genius to The Arrow. After all, what could a man whose best qualities appeared to be archery skills and well-fitting leather pants bring to a young woman with a Mensa IQ and an aversion to all things pointy? It had never occurred to Donna that the Green Arrow might care about Felicity's well-being and help her out with one of _her_ personal issues, like proving the man who had fired her was a law-breaking jerk.

It was almost enough to make Donna like The Arrow…almost, but not quite. If only he hadn't stopped by Felicity's place this morning to _collect_ on his good deed, she would have been willing to think of him as a decent guy. Mind you, Felicity had certainly sounded like she was paying up happily, but still…

Donna narrowed her eyes and glanced once more at the clock: 12:30. Three and a half hours was more than enough time for the man to get his groove on, she decided, no matter how much stamina he had. She picked up her purse and the bag containing the kate spade sandals she'd bought (on sale), and left the coffee shop.

Traffic was light, and before she knew it she was standing once more at the door to Felicity's loft. She was about to enter with the security code again when she opted instead for the doorbell. It just seemed safer.

She had to wait a minute or two after ringing the bell. There was the faint sound of footsteps from somewhere inside, followed by a brief and very masculine, "I got it." She sucked in her breath. _The Green Arrow was still there!_ Good God, the man must be intending to spend the entire day with Felicity. And now Donna was about to meet him. Would he be masked? Or - if unmasked - would she recognize him? She felt a small, nervous shiver run down her spine and told herself to be tough as she heard the steps nearing the door. She swallowed hard as it was opened…by none other than Oliver.

"Oliver?" Donna felt her jaw drop. She wasn't sure whether it was in shock or relief. She had steeled herself for the green-hooded vigilante and here instead was a familiar, welcome face – although not one she'd expected to find in Felicity's home. She was immediately torn between being delighted that he was with Felicity, and worried that he'd arrived early enough to catch her daughter in the act with The Arrow.

"Donna," Oliver replied, a broad smile on his face. He appeared relaxed; not at all like a man who'd just discovered the woman he loves in bed with a masked vigilante. In fact, he looked happier than she had seen him for a long time. Despite the smile, however, something seemed a little off about him - although she couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was.

He stepped away from the door and gestured inside. "Please, come in. It's good to see you…it's been a while."

"Thanks." Donna walked into the loft and immediately glanced around, as subtly as she could. The place looked bright and orderly, the way Felicity usually kept it. There was no quiver of arrows at the foot of the stairs and, as best as she could tell, no random pieces of clothing scattered in the second floor hallway. Well, that explained Oliver's smile - the Green Arrow must have cleared out before he got there. Felicity was not in sight, but Donna could hear movement upstairs.

She turned back to study Oliver – who was still grinning like a kid. It took her a few seconds to figure out what was different, but she finally pinned it down to his clothing. He was dressed casually in a tee shirt and sweat pants. The shirt looked normal enough, but the pants were snug and much too short. They reminded her an awfully lot of an old pair that Felicity used to wear, when she spent the evening at home with a pint of mint chocolate chip after a particularly bad day. They came down to just below Oliver's knees, exposing much of his calves above his bare feet. It was tough to tell with sweats, but the pants also looked like they might be on backwards.

Oliver's eyes followed hers as she examined him. If he noticed her reaction to his appearance, he didn't comment on it. Instead he said, "I'm sorry I didn't answer your texts earlier this morning. I…misplaced my phone and only found it a few minutes ago."

"Oh," Donna replied, still wondering about his clothes. Then, something clicked and she shook her head. "Wait a minute. You lost your phone earlier this morning and just found it in _Felicity's_ loft…now?"

He stared blankly at her for a few seconds. "Yes. I guess I left it in the kitchen when I came over to help Felicity…," he hesitated.

"Move furniture." Felicity's voice came from the top of the stairs. She smiled down at them – almost beaming at Oliver - and then quickly descended to the first floor. Like Oliver she was dressed carelessly, wearing an oversized shirt and old yoga pants. Her hair was uncombed and Donna was pretty sure there was no bra underneath the shirt. "I wanted to rearrange the bedroom," Felicity explained, "and Oliver came over this morning to help me move things." When she arrived next to Donna, she added, "Mom, I'm sorry about the airport. I had it on my calendar to pick you up. I just got so carried away this morning with the…furniture moving, that I forgot."

Donna frowned. She knew for a fact that Felicity had been carried away by something (or someone) else entirely this morning, but with Oliver standing there she couldn't exactly call her daughter out on the fib. Besides, the grin on Felicity's face looked awfully similar to Oliver's. They kept glancing at each other happily, as if they'd just received the best news in the world. Seeing the two of them together and clearly delighted with each other was almost enough to make her not want to poke at things…almost, but not quite.

Because nothing added up, and that bothered her. Donna might not have Felicity's technical genius, but even she could read a clock and do simple math. She'd left the loft a little after 9:00 and gotten to Oliver's office by 9:45. He'd already called in by that time to say he'd be out for the day, and he didn't respond to her immediate text. And now he was telling her his silence was because he'd misplaced his phone somewhere in Felicity's loft. By Donna's reckoning, that meant less than 45 minutes for Felicity and the Green Arrow to trip the light fantastic in the shower, the Arrow to clear out of there with all his gear, and Oliver to arrive and lose his phone. And while that might be technically possible, the satisfied glow her daughter was wearing suggested that her needs had been taken care of by more than a stand-up quickie under hot water.

No, there had to be a better explanation. Donna studied Oliver once more; the square jaw, the well-formed biceps, the long, strong legs…and the large feet. She'd never met the Green Arrow up close, but from what she'd seen in news clips, the two men certainly shared similar physical characteristics. A thought popped in her head – which she quickly dismissed as being completely impossible. Well…maybe not impossible, perhaps more like improbable. Or maybe just really surprising. She looked into Oliver's earnest blue eyes. She'd never thought of him as being a huge risk-taker despite his reputation for wildness when he was younger, but people had unexpected depths. He certainly kept himself in great shape. And it would explain the timing and the clothing.

She turned to Felicity. "Hon," she said brightly, "have you eaten?" When Felicity shook her head, Donna added, "Then why don't you and I get lunch? I'm starving. Oliver," she gave him a sideways glance, "looks like he needs to go home and get into his _own_ clothes. I'd ask you to show me how you've rearranged the bedroom, but I think we _all_ know that you weren't up there moving furniture."

Felicity flushed, and the grins that she and Oliver had been exchanging disappeared, replaced by worried frowns. Donna's suspicions were confirmed. After a long moment, Felicity said slowly, "Okay, Mom. I'll just go upstairs and get dressed…I mean changed." She gave Oliver a meaningful look. "I'll still see you tonight? At the…thing…with Curtis?" Oliver nodded, all traces of a smile gone. After one more glance at him, Felicity headed up the stairs towards her bedroom.

Donna turned to Oliver, who was now regarding her cautiously. His mouth opened and closed several times before he finally said, "Well, I'll be going now, Donna. It was…nice…to see you and I'd really like to talk more, but I can see that you're busy with Felicity. I'm sure we'll have to chance to catch up in the next few days. Enjoy your lunch." Being mayor must be changing him, Donna thought, because that part about wanting to talk more right now was a politician's statement if ever she'd heard one. In reality, Oliver looked like he couldn't get out of there fast enough.

She smiled at him. "You can count on it, Oliver. I'm anxious to hear about _all_ your activities."

Oliver gave one more desperate glance up the stairs, even though Felicity was out of sight, then quickly left the loft. As the door closed behind him, Donna thought about how she should approach the topic with her daughter. She was more surprised by Oliver than Felicity. Over the last couple of years she'd learned that Felicity was willing to take risks in unexpected areas. Oliver, on the other hand, had seemed more cautious and surprisingly domestic. His care of Felicity during her convalescence had been heartwarming and Donna had imagined him keeping house as her daughter ran Palmer Tech. And now, to discover this?

Felicity and Oliver were playing with fire, and she was going to make her opinion of the whole thing very clear over lunch.

* * *

 

Oliver poked the button in the elevator anxiously on the way down to the lair. It had been a long afternoon worrying about what Donna might or might not have figured out. She certainly didn't have Felicity's genius and she could be scatterbrained at times, but she was intuitive and she had common sense. She could put two and two together. And he and Felicity hadn't had much time or energy to come up with a story before Donna had arrived at the loft. After round 3 (or was it 4?) on the kitchen table, they'd both been pretty spent.

He'd eventually decided to go into the office rather than continue to stew over things alone. It hadn't helped much. He must have read the same proposal three times with none of it sinking in, and he'd stared blankly during the Zoning Commissioner's presentation for expanding Star City's parks. All going to the office had achieved was making him later to the lair than he'd wanted to be.

Felicity had sent him one short text around 3:00: _It's not good_. She hadn't expanded on it. Oliver had desperately wanted to know more, but discussing his secret identity over text messages was not secure so he had had to wait until he could see her in person. He kept reminding himself that a number of people were aware of him being the Green Arrow and it had worked out just fine, but having Felicity's mom in on the secret seemed like a bad idea. She would worry and – worse – she might let something slip.

And now his heart was racing as the elevator doors opened.

Felicity was alone in the lair, sitting in front of her computers. Unlike most evenings, she wasn't typing, or even looking at the screen. Her elbow was on the table and she was resting her forehead in her hand, staring down at the floor.

"Well?" Oliver said without preamble. There wasn't much sense in trying to work up to the discussion; they both knew the issue. "Did your mom figure it out?"

Felicity lifted her head to look at him and sighed. "She certainly came up with an explanation," she said grimly. She closed her eyes and shook her head.

Oliver frowned. Why didn't she just say it? "Which is?" he asked impatiently.

Felicity grimaced. "That we're having a threesome."

He nearly choked. "Excuse me?"

"You, me and the Green Arrow. We're in a threesome. That's my mom's explanation for what she saw today."

Oliver stared at her. "I think I need to sit down." He rolled one of the other chairs next to Felicity's and sank into it. "How the hell did she come up with that?"

Felicity shrugged – a little desperately, Oliver thought. "It actually makes a weird kind of sense when she presents all her facts," she said in an overly calm voice. "From her point of view, it's pretty logical. Apparently, she came into the loft this morning when you and I were in the shower. She saw the Green Arrow's stuff scattered around and decided to leave." Felicity took her glasses off and pinched the bridge of her nose before continuing. "She then went to the Mayor's office to talk to you…as Oliver Queen…only to be told that you were out for the day. She texted you, but you didn't answer." She studied the glasses in her lap for a few seconds before lifting her eyes to meet Oliver's. "Finally, she came back to the loft to find Oliver Queen wearing my sweatpants and to learn that he'd… _you'd_ misplaced your phone somewhere at my place. She worked out the timing to realize that you – Oliver – had to be there around the same time as the Green Arrow." Felicity exhaled heavily. "Since she didn't see you when she came by the first time, and both of us looked happy the second time she showed up, she decided the three of us must have been in the shower together. She also decided that since Oliver and the Arrow are about the same size - and God help me, I don't how to explain this without using both your names – Oliver must have lent his clothes to the Green Arrow so that The Arrow could leave without wearing his leathers. That left you – as Oliver - no choice except to wear my sweatpants." By this point, Felicity sounded as if she didn't know whether laugh or cry. "Ipso facto - a threesome."

Oliver sat there, silently. What could he say, really?

"The worst part of it all," Felicity continued, "is that I'm not sure whether Mom is horrified or impressed. You know she's always thought me too serious, too bookish. To find out that I'm in a threesome with the city's mayor and its vigilante – both hot men – well, she looked like she wanted to hug me and slap me at the same time. One minute she's telling me I'm an idiot, and the next she's asking whether threesomes are everything they're cracked up to be. I don't know what I'm supposed to do now."

Oliver sighed. It certainly was a predicament, although he was relieved to know that Donna wasn't running around telling people he was the Green Arrow. And there was a kind of ironic humor, when you thought about it. After all, Felicity _did_ just sleep with both men. After a moment, he reached over to take one of Felicity's hands. "Maybe we should just let her keep thinking it," he said slowly.

"Seriously?"

He squeezed her hand gently. "It's kind of true, after all, and it's always easier to stick to the truth. You _did_ sleep with the Mayor and the Green Arrow at the same time. If your mom can handle that idea, why try to come up with another explanation?"

She stared at him. "You know we all hate it when you refer to yourself in the third person, right?"

Oliver smiled. "Yup, I know it."

"And I'm going on record as saying I don't think this is a good idea. I'm not so sure Mom _can_ handle it. Okay, so she won't slip up about you being the Green Arrow, but what if she slips up about our supposed _arrangement_? Is that any better?"

"People are usually reluctant to talk about sex in their personal lives, especially anything that's a little…kinky. I don't think she's likely to say her daughter is sleeping with two men simultaneously. She'll be too afraid of damaging your reputation."

"You've met my mother, Oliver…"

Oliver smiled. "Yes, I have. And I'm still pretty confident about this one."

Felicity sighed. "And I'm just supposed to spend time with her, knowing she thinks I'm the filling in the middle of an Oliver-Arrow sandwich?"

He gave something between a laugh and a snort. "There are worse things." Something suddenly occurred to him, and although he was afraid, he had to ask it. "Does this mean that last night and this morning wasn't a fluke? That it will happen again? That we're on the way to being…close…again? I was thinking you might have just been grateful for the rescue from Dennis."

She rolled her eyes. "Four times, Oliver? Once might have been gratitude, but four times? Do you really need to ask?"

He smiled, relieved and happy. She hadn't said all was forgiven yet, but that was pretty damn close. He replied lightly, "So it _was_ four. I lost count."

"Yes, it was four. A very good four, too."

"I'm glad to hear it."

She was smiling back at him warmly. So warmly, in fact, that it was giving him ideas. After a moment, he said, "You know, if you don't see much happening in the city tonight," he gestured toward the computer, "we could go back to the loft and try for five."

"Try for five what?" Curtis's voice emerged from the elevator, causing them both to jump in their chairs. Felicity slid her glasses back on her face and the three of them stared at each other for a few seconds before Curtis began to grin broadly. "So I was on target last night when I told you two to go find a room? You finally kissed and made up?" He shook his head gleefully. "It's about time." When Oliver and Felicity said nothing, he added, "Well, what are you both still doing here? Take the night off." He made a shooing gesture toward the elevator. "Go home. Celebrate. The bad guys will be here tomorrow."

Felicity sighed and didn't move. She glanced wryly at Oliver. "As much as I'd like to follow your suggestion, Curtis, my mother is in town and staying at the loft. She arrived this morning and it puts a bit of a…" she hesitated, "damper on things."

Oliver frowned, some of his cheer disappearing. He'd been so happy about Felicity still having feelings for him that he'd managed to forget about Donna for a few short seconds. If he went back to the loft with Felicity now, there was a good chance Donna would be waiting for them and want to talk about the alleged menage a trois. It was a conversation he didn't feel like having tonight – and maybe not ever, if he could help it. It was cowardly, he knew, but he kind of hoped Felicity could deal with her mom alone on this one.

Curtis, unaware of Donna's theory, rolled his eyes. "There are always complications with you two. Why don't you call Quentin Lance and have him take your mother off your hands for the night? Give you lovebirds some alone time."

Felicity shook her head. "Unfortunately, Mom and Mr. Lance aren't seeing each other anymore." She glanced at Curtis thoughtfully. "What are you and Paul up to tonight?"

Curtis held up his hands. "Oh, no, no, no. I'm thrilled you and Oliver are getting back together and I'll help when I can, but don't ask me to play host to your mom. That's going above and beyond."

Felicity slumped back in her chair. "Yeah…I suppose that _is_ asking too much." She looked at Oliver ruefully. "Well, I guess we should go back and face the music? Maybe it won't be that bad."

Oliver slid his chair a few inches away from hers. "I don't know, Felicity. It's your mom's first night in town. I was thinking you should spend some time alone with her. I can catch up with both of you over dinner tomorrow."

Felicity's eyes narrowed. "Oliver Queen, this isn't a great way to begin our new relationship – leaving me to face danger on my own."

He smiled apologetically. "I know. I'm being a chicken. I promise I'll be by your side tomorrow night, though."

"I'll hold you to that." And Felicity rose reluctantly from her chair and headed for the elevator.


	3. The Consequences, Part 1

Oliver awoke the next morning, feeling relaxed and refreshed. Even though he hadn't spent the night with Felicity, he'd slept better than he had in a long time. Knowing that she still cared for him was better than any drug - it was soothing and exhilarating at the same time. He took a long, hot shower and put on a suit and tie for work.

His limo driver negotiated the commuter traffic to City Hall in cordial silence, doing nothing to mar Oliver's sense of ease and goodwill. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day. The skies were clear and the temperatures moderate; the kind of day that brightened everyone's outlook. He nodded pleasantly to his staff as he entered the city's offices, still focused on the incredible news that he and Felicity were reuniting _and_ Donna had failed to figure out that he was the Green Arrow - despite overwhelming evidence pointing toward that conclusion. He was back with the woman he loved and his identity was safe. The only thing that could make it any better would be returning his ring to Felicity's finger and - suddenly - even that seemed possible. He walked into his office and smiled cheerfully when one of his aides handed him a cup of coffee.

The aide, who couldn't have been much older than twenty, smiled back at him. "You're certainly in a good mood this morning, Mr. Queen," she said. The grin on her face looked a little coy, he thought, and she almost appeared to be flirting, but maybe it was just her youth and enthusiasm. She was new to his staff, yet another in a line of aides who came to work in the Mayor's office for a few months to claim civic involvement on their resume. He knew from experience that she'd be there just long enough to learn that he _didn't_ like cream in his coffee, reserved his first hour in the office to review city news, and should always be interrupted when his sister wanted to see him. Then she'd be gone, off to her next job. He tried desperately to remember her name.

"Well, it's a beautiful day out there," he took a guess, "…Madison? What's not to like?"

He must have gotten it right, because she looked pleased. She stepped closer, affording him a respectable view down her crossover blouse. "It certainly is, Mr. Queen. Is there anything _else_ I can get you to keep you smiling?" There was no doubt about the suggestive tone in her voice this time.

He chose to ignore it. "Could you get me a cup of coffee _without_ cream?" he asked, returning the cup she'd just given him.

She glanced at the pale brown liquid and flushed, evidently disappointed. "Of course," she replied, in a more subdued manner. She started walking away, but then turned from his office doorway to face him. "Sugar?" she asked uncertainly.

"Just black, Madison. Thank you."

"Right, Mr. Queen. Black coffee coming up." She headed down the hallway, her step a little less perky than it had been a minute ago.

Oliver sat at his desk and pulled up the city's news on the computer. William Dennis's arrest was no longer the top story, but it was still figuring prominently. Scanning the latest information, Oliver was pleased to see that the remainder of the Palmer Tech Board was _not_ rallying behind the man. The company had issued an official statement saying: _"Palmer Technologies is cooperating fully with the police investigation of William Dennis and will act upon the results as appropriate. Palmer has a strong ethics policy and expects all employees, including our Board of Directors, to adhere to that policy."_ Oliver was fairly sure this was corporate-speak for, _"We'll wait a respectable amount of time to ensure the appearance of fairness, and then William Dennis will be fired."_ He was less happy to see that the story was putting Felicity's name back in the news. The reaction of Wall Street to her removal as Palmer's CEO was being rehashed, and there were photos of her at local events, including a few older ones with him. There was even mention of a plan to honor her at an upcoming Star City College fundraiser by the local chapter of Girls in Tech. He wondered briefly why she hadn't said anything about it. Even though the media were positive about Felicity, he wished they would stop writing about her. Things felt safer to him when she could fly under the radar.

Now that he was well rested and had the benefit of hindsight, he was a little ashamed that he hadn't done more last night to help Felicity with her mom, leaving her instead to deal with the whole _threesome_ discussion on her own. It was cowardly, but he knew Donna well enough to anticipate the conversation getting a little… _direct_ , and talking about sex with your girlfriend in front of her mother was just too damn embarrassing. He'd thought about a text or a short call to Felicity late in the evening to see how things were going, but didn't want to interrupt if they were in the midst of their talk. Donna's explanation for finding Oliver Queen _and_ the Green Arrow at Felicity's place was definitely unique and – really - a little lucky. He doubted anyone else would have reached the same conclusion. He knew Felicity didn't agree with him on the lucky part, but he was confident she would see over time that the threesome theory was better than revealing his secret identity.

He was less confident he understood Felicity's position (no pun intended) on threesomes as a whole. When they had been living together, they'd shared what he considered to be a very healthy and active sex life – and the topic of anything too _quirky_ had never come up. Oliver had been surprised last night to see that while she seemed disconcerted about her mother thinking she was _in_ a threesome, she hadn't appeared as shocked by the general concept as he would have expected. Oliver, frankly, had been more uncomfortable. The thought of sharing Felicity in bed with another man went against all his instincts. She was his and his alone – to keep safe, to keep happy and to keep satisfied. He had no interest in watching someone else help her…reach the top of the mountain. That was his job.

Hypocrite that he was, _he'd_ actually had some experience with threesomes himself, back during his very short enrollment at Stanford University. The difference, of course, was that the ratio had been the inverse of Donna's; he'd shared a bed with _two_ _women_. Not long into his freshman year, he'd been approached by a pair of juniors proposing that the three of them hook up for an evening. Oliver had been 19 at the time and already considered himself a veteran in the bedroom, but his high school sexual encounters had never taken him quite _that far_. He'd been a little nervous and very intrigued, and he'd accepted their offer. Both girls were athletic (they were two thirds of the starting outfield for Stanford's softball team) and very enthusiastic. He'd spent the entire night with Aim _ee_ and Kath _ee_ (or was it Ama _nn_ da and Kare _nn_?), and had emerged with a smile on his face and a muscle strain in his lower back that required a week to heal. He also became an instant legend among the freshmen males.

Still – while he wouldn't admit it to anyone at the time - he hadn't enjoyed the experience as much as he'd anticipated. It had been a bit like bungee jumping or swimming with sharks; one of those things you did once, just to say you did it, but weren't that eager to repeat because it didn't live up to the hype. Maybe at heart he was too traditional, but even in his youth he'd felt that sex was best when you gave your partner your undivided attention, which was tough to do when you had _two_ people to pay attention to; good sex was about connecting, he believed, not geometry or numbers. He made a mental note now to ask Felicity whether she felt the same - although he thought he might omit his experience with the Stanford outfielders when he talked to her. She'd already told him he had far too many skeletons in his closet. This one certainly didn't need to be exposed to the light of day.

"Mr. Queen?"

Startled out of his thoughts, he turned to see Madison in the doorway with his cup of now (hopefully) black coffee. She appeared tense and was wearing a worried expression – a far different girl from ten minutes ago. Something must have happened.

He gave her an encouraging smile. "Come in, Madison. Thanks for the fresh coffee." As he took the cup from her hand, he added gently, "Is anything wrong?"

Her answer came out in a rush. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Queen. I know it's my job to help manage your visitors, but I can't get her to leave. She's in the lobby and I told her she needs an appointment, but she refuses to move. She's standing there demanding to see you, and she's getting loud, and she's starting to make the other people uncomfortable. She won't listen to me at all. She says she has to talk to you…now."

He frowned. "Take a deep breath, Madison. Who won't leave?"

"Some blonde woman in a really tight dress. She says she knows you, and has a story about being a former or future mother-in-law…I can't remember which. Her name is Donna Something or Other."

Donna. Here now. _Oh crap_.

Oliver slumped back in his chair. He'd known he was going to have to face her at some point, but he'd counted on having more time to prepare and had definitely wanted Felicity at his side when they had what he was pretty sure was going to be _The Threesome Talk_. He should have realized that Donna would work to her own schedule. He glanced at his phone and, sure enough, there was a brief text from Felicity that contained a frowny face and said: _She's on her way, I couldn't stop her_. He stared into his coffee and sighed. Knowing Donna, it was going to take a Mirakuru soldier to get her out of the building. He may as well confront the dragon, he thought, because she wasn't going away and she was clearly distracting both visitors and staff. And there was a risk she might say too much in her agitation.

He took a swig of the coffee, grimacing when he found it was still very hot. "I know who it is," he said grimly to Madison, "and, believe me, there wasn't anything you could do to make her leave." He took a deep breath. "Send her in."

"You're sure, Mr. Queen? We could call the police."

For a few seconds Oliver was tempted, but then he shook his head. Exposing more people to Donna and, potentially, to her theory was not a good idea. If she was already disturbing folks in the lobby, who knew what she might let slip when the police showed up? And besides, a fair number of the SCPD knew that Donna had dated Quentin Lance when he was their captain. They were a tight community; the story of her being escorted out of City Hall would get back to Lance in a heartbeat and Oliver would have even more explaining to do. No, as Felicity had said last night, it was time to face the music.

"Send her in," he repeated firmly.

His aide shrugged. "You're a brave man, Mr. Queen."

_Madison_ , Oliver thought, _you don't know the half of it_.

Thirty seconds later, Donna Smoak blew into his office in a whirlwind of big hair, blue spandex dress and very high heels. She wasn't smiling, but she wasn't exactly scowling either. Her face wore a frustrated and perplexed expression, as if she were trying to follow the assembly instructions for Ikea bookshelves. Oliver wasn't sure if that was a good thing, but it made him a little optimistic. Maybe she wasn't as angry as he'd thought and maybe this conversation wouldn't be as bad as he was expecting.

That optimism disappeared quickly as she stood on the opposite side of his desk and demanded, "Oliver, what on earth are you thinking?"

It was a broad question, and there were a number of strategies for answering it – or avoiding it, if he were lucky. Oliver decided that ignorance was his best option. He tried to look caring, concerned, and more than a little clueless. "Donna – good morning. I can certainly see you're upset. What's the problem?" he asked innocently.

She narrowed her eyes and leaned across the desk. Given the neckline of her dress, Oliver couldn't help but notice that Felicity hadn't inherited her mother's cup size. "Don't play dumb with me, Oliver Queen," Donna said sharply. "You know exactly why I'm here. I'm sure Felicity filled you in on my discovery at the loft. I came to talk about Felicity, you, _and_ the Green Arrow." She held up a hand and fiercely counted off on her fingers. "One, two, three. Three people, Oliver, in the shower yesterday morning. Three people in Felicity's bed." She shook her head. "It's a recipe for disaster. I can't believe you've agreed to go along with it."

Her voice was loud and Oliver prayed that Madison was not standing on the other side of his office door. He attempted to interrupt. "Donna…"

He may as well have tried to hold back the Pacific Ocean. "Have you thought about the risks, Oliver?" she continued angrily. "The potential consequences? It may seem like fun now, but suppose Felicity gets pregnant? We won't know who the father is. God knows I wouldn't mind grandchildren, but I want them to have _your_ eyes and cooking skills, not shoot arrows and swing from chandeliers. How would _he_ even attend parent-teacher conferences? In his hood and mask?"

"Donna…"

"And while I'm all for Felicity having a little fling because she's had a tough time lately, at some point she _is_ going to have to settle down in a meaningful relationship and build a family. What if she compares you with The Arrow and decides _he's_ the one she wants to spend the rest of her life with? He's already got the whole _mystery man_ _who saves the city and looks great in leather_ thing going for him. No offense, but compare that to a politician in a suit and the mystery man wins every time." She paused just long enough to catch her breath. "And he _works_ with her, Oliver. He values her skills. Do you know how flattering it is to a girl like Felicity to have a man appreciate her brains as well as her looks?"

"Donna…"

She shook her head and tapped his desk crisply with one long, lacquered fingernail. "You need to stop this now, Oliver, before someone gets hurt – especially my daughter. She's had enough pain in her life." With those words, her expression softened. "I know you still love her. Maybe you think going along with this… _arrangement_ …is the only way you can be close to her. But I believe she still loves you, too, and there _is_ a way you can be with her, without having to share her. You just need to find it. Start by going back to the basics – a little romance, red wine, and a lot of foot rubs. _Talk_ to her – tell her what's going on in your life and ask about hers. Let her see that you're the only man she needs."

She stopped abruptly, evidently having said what she'd come to say. The two of them stared at each other over the desk for a long moment. Oliver didn't think he could reply with anything that would change Donna's belief about what she'd seen at the loft, so there seemed no point in arguing. All in all, it hadn't been as bad as he'd expected, and it was over pretty quickly. The good news was that she still wanted _him_ to be with her daughter; it would have been harder to take if she'd ordered him to leave Felicity in favor of the Green Arrow. At last he said, quietly, "Well, thank you for the advice, Donna. You've certainly given me a lot to think about."

"Don't think, Oliver. Just fix this, before it's too late and you lose her to the guy in the hood."

"Right. I'll do my best." He looked down at his desk, unsure of where to go next. "Anything else we need to talk about?" he asked a little nervously.

Donna smiled. "No, I think that about covers it. I've said my piece." She began to leave his office but then stopped when she got to the doorway. Turning to face him, she added, "You probably _should_ know, though, that your aides have a pool going on who can seduce you first. Apparently, there's big money riding on whoever can get 'Mayor Handsome' into bed. I overheard them talking when I was in the waiting area."

Oliver felt his brow crease. "I only have two female aides. It can't be _that_ much of a pool."

Donna shrugged. "I'm not sure it's confined only to the females. And you should watch out for the one that brought me back here – she bet big because she thinks she's going to win. Now that you're back with my daughter, I certainly assume that she has no chance." The smile returned to her face. "Have a good day, Oliver."

"You too, Donna."

He watched her sashay down the hall until she disappeared around the corner, and then settled back into his chair. While their conversation had been better than expected (although very one-sided), he still found it a little discouraging - maybe because there had been a small element of truth in Donna's perceptions of Oliver versus The Green Arrow. If you forgot for the moment that they were really the same person, then you might think that The Arrow treated Felicity better than Oliver did. The Arrow was honest with her, respected her skills, and dropped everything to be by her side when she was in trouble. He spent almost every night with her – she knew where he was and what he was doing. Oliver Queen couldn't say the same thing.

He took a sip of his coffee only to find that it was now cold. He thought about asking Madison for another cup, but after Donna's story about the seduction bet he suddenly found himself leery of too much private time with _any_ of his aides. At any rate, it was time to get to work. He was the Mayor of Star City; he needed to focus on his duties. With a sigh, he turned back to the computer and once again started reading the city's news.

"So, did you survive?"

He looked up to see Felicity grinning from the doorway. Suddenly those duties didn't seem so important.

He grinned back. "How did you get in here?"

She glanced over her shoulder, down the now-empty hallway leading to his office. "My mom has your staff pretty distracted. I was able to walk in without anyone noticing." She frowned and added, "You should probably talk to your security team about that."

He shrugged. "Well, as long as it's you sneaking in, I don't mind. And, as we both know, I can take care of myself."

"Yes, we know that."

Oliver studied her as she leaned casually against the doorframe. She was wearing a simple black and white dress that fell just above her knees, and her hair was not in its usual ponytail. Whatever her mother had said to her last night, she must have made peace with it because she appeared cheerful and at ease. Seeing her, smiling in his office, he suddenly felt better. He said lightly, "And as for surviving your mother, I think I'm still in one piece, although I'm not quite sure. She certainly didn't pull any punches."

"Yeah. I'm guessing you got the same lecture I did." Felicity fluttered her hands in imitation of Donna. "' _I'm all for you having a little fun, Felicity, but you eventually need to settle down with just one man. You won't be young forever. So choose one of them and get on with it.'"_

Oliver frowned. "She said, _'choose one?'_ She didn't say, _'choose Oliver?'_ " he asked a little worriedly.

Felicity stared at him for a few seconds. "No, I'm pretty sure she just said, _'choose one,'_ " she repeated seriously. Then she broke out into a teasing smile.

He rolled his eyes. "Very funny."

" _I_ thought it was."

He gazed at her - she looked beautiful with her hair loose and a little disorganized – before remembering that they were together and he was allowed to kiss her again. "Why are you still standing in the doorway?" he asked abruptly. Remaining seated, he rolled his chair back from the desk and pointed to his chest. "Get over here." She smiled and stepped into his office, shutting the door behind her. As soon as she was within reach he put a hand on her hip to pull her the last few inches into his embrace. Then he tilted his head up to kiss her, warmly but not too passionately. They were in the office, after all; he didn't want to start something he couldn't finish. After a minute or two, he released her lips and gently spun her until she was facing his computer monitor. Then he tugged on her waist until she sat down, partly on the chair and partly in his lap, her back pressed against his chest.

He leaned forward to rest his chin lightly on her shoulder as they both looked at the screen. "Why didn't you tell me about this?" He pointed to the story about the award dinner in her honor at Star City College.

Felicity shrugged, tickling his cheek with her hair and causing his head to bob slightly. "You've had a lot on your plate lately, between your day job and your night job, and with John not here," she said easily. "My getting some silly award really didn't seem that important."

Oliver recalled Donna's words about The Arrow's obvious respect for Felicity and her accomplishments. "If it's happening to you," he said truthfully, "then it's important to me. I would have liked to have attended the banquet to see you accept the award."

"Does that mean you can't?"

He sighed and nuzzled her neck. "Unfortunately, no. We've got a dual-city council meeting that night – our city council plus Central City's. We're supposed to talk about improvements to the Star-Central high speed rail-line. It's been on the calendar for a couple of months."

She patted his hand, still resting on her waist. "Well, that goes with the territory when you're Mayor," she said philosophically. "You can't always do what you want. Anyway," she added, "it's not as if it will be a ton of fun. There'll be some speeches, I'll get a plaque, and we'll eat some rubbery chicken. Watching two city councils argue sounds much more entertaining."

"I doubt that." Glancing down, he slid his hands from her waist to the tops of her thighs, delightfully exposed by her short dress. He'd intended to rest them there, but pretty soon found himself caressing her legs - lightly at first along the top, and then more deliberately as he moved his hands toward her inner thighs. Felicity's legs felt sooo good; soft, silky and firm, all at the same time. They were irresistible. Despite his earlier resolution to behave professionally in the office, he started moving his hands higher. He knew it was inappropriate; he just couldn't help it.

She closed her eyes and shivered. "Oliver…" she warned.

"Hmmm?" His hands made it all the way up to her underwear.

"This probably isn't a good idea."

He slid a couple of fingers along her panties. Damp…most definitely damp. "No," he agreed softly in her ear, "it probably isn't. Although your body seems to want me to continue."

Her eyes remained closed and she shook her head weakly. "That's such a cliché, Oliver. My mind rules my body. And we're in the Mayor's office. What if someone walks in?"

He put his lips against the pulse point in her neck, feeling her rapid heartbeat. "Well, cliché or not, your body definitely appears interested." He moved his fingers inside her panties to touch _her_ , and damp suddenly became wet. "Am I making my point?" She nodded limply, and he felt a surge of delight knowing that Felicity wanted him. His resolution to behave in a Mayor-like manner vanished entirely. "As for being in the office," he continued quietly, kissing her neck, "the door is closed and staff knows I usually spend this hour with the news. We should be fine." He wiggled his fingers lightly.

Felicity moaned very softly, and he felt himself go from hard to _really_ hard. With one hand still caressing her, he moved the other to the zipper of his pants. Normally he liked to take more time with these things, but he was ready, Felicity was ready, and there was a lot of lost time to make up for. And after months of mainly hearing from disgruntled constituents, it seemed only fair that he had the chance to enjoy himself in the Mayor's office. He started to slide down his zipper.

"Mr. Queen? Your 9:30 appointment is…oh. Oh shit – I mean, oh, I'm sorry."

Oliver looked up to see his office door open and Madison standing there. Quick as a flash he returned his zipper to the closed position and arranged Felicity's dress more discretely over her thighs. They were still seated, facing his desk with their legs half under it, so there was a chance his aide hadn't seen all the glorious details. Felicity blushed and started to get up, but Oliver wrapped one arm back around her waist and held her firmly on his lap. He wasn't interested in exposing his more personal assets to Madison.

There were a few seconds of a very awkward silence. Felicity stared at her shoes, Oliver stared at his computer screen, and Madison continued to stare at them.

Oliver decided to brazen it out. He didn't have much choice, really - nothing remotely believable to say came to mind. "Madison," he said matter-of-factly, "I don't think you've met my girlfriend, Felicity Smoak?" He kissed Felicity on the temple for emphasis. "Felicity," he continued, "this is one of my aides, Madison."

Felicity gave Madison a wobbly smile. "Hey, Madison. Nice to meet you."

His aide struggled to smile back. "I didn't see you come in, Felicity. It's…nice to meet you, too." Turning her gaze to Oliver she added glumly, "I didn't realize you _had_ a girlfriend, Mr. Queen. Someone on staff told me you were single."

Judging by her disappointed expression, Oliver figured she must have bet big in the "Seduce Mayor Handsome" pool, and now realized she wasn't going to collect. He gave a mental shrug; it wasn't his problem. "No," he affirmed to Madison, "I'm definitely _not_ single." Anxious to end the discussion, he added, "Now, what's this about a 9:30 appointment?"

His aide shook her head as if to clear it. "Councilman Ramirez is in the waiting room. I'll tell him you'll be with him," she stared pointedly at Felicity, still seated on Oliver's lap, "in ten or fifteen minutes. I trust that's enough time." She turned sharply on her heel and headed back down the hallway, leaving the office door open.

Felicity sighed. "Well, that was definitely embarrassing." She paused and leaned back against him. "But would it sound weird to say that almost doing it in your office was also kind of exciting?" She frowned. "Maybe I'm a closet exhibitionist and never knew it?"

Oliver chuckled. "I doubt it. And I think _closet exhibitionist_ might be an oxymoron."

"I suppose it is. Well, I should let you get back to work before your aide returns." Felicity tugged on his arms and he reluctantly let go of her waist. She stood up and smoothed her dress. "Mayor Queen, let's hope my mother has left the building. I'm in enough trouble already over the threesome; if she hears about sexcapades in your office, she'll think I've lost my mind completely. Not," she continued awkwardly, "that we actually _had_ a threesome…or at least _I_ didn't. I'm not so sure about you and the Stanford softball players…"

He snapped upright in his chair. "How the hell did you hear about Stanford?"

"Twitter logs go back a long way. And if it's online, I can find it." She smiled sweetly. "We can talk about it tonight."

Oh boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To people in the U.S., happy Thanksgiving. And thank you for all the comments and kudos. It means a lot.


	4. The Consequences, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that this story isn't fully S5 compliant -- ie, I haven't included all the new additions to Team Arrow. I did bring John back because he's fun to write and he doesn't let Oliver get away with much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for continuing to follow. I'm making a New Year's resolution to finish all my open stories before I embark on a new one.

Fortunately for Oliver, Felicity was merciful about his Stanford threesome experience – well, _fairly_ merciful. She did perform a little online research and learned that Aimee (one third of his university hookup and centerfield on the softball team) had been talented enough to play on the U.S. squad in the Beijing summer Olympics. The next few times he and Felicity got into bed she assumed an apologetic expression, saying she was sorry she couldn't be as _athletic_ as some women but hoped she wouldn't disappoint. Then she grinned. Rather than answer, he opted to put his hands (and tongue) to work, and replace her teasing smile with a look of pleasure. So really, things worked out all right.

Sadly, he didn't have a whole lot of time alone with Felicity to be teased _or_ to give pleasure. Donna decided to extend her Star City visit to include Felicity's awards dinner, so privacy at the loft was limited. More seriously, Lyla called to tell him John was in an army prison and she wanted to break him out before he came to harm. Given his experience with prisons, Oliver shared Lyla's sense of urgency and immediately began working with her to plan the difficult escape. He was surprised when Felicity declined to participate. After all, he knew she loved John every bit as much as he did.

"Wouldn't it be better to prove that the charges are false and get him released?" she asked. "If you break him out, he'll be wanted and he'll have to go into hiding. It may seem like a good idea now, but in the long run it won't be much of a life for John."

Oliver shook his head. He hated disagreeing with Felicity, particularly since they'd only recently reunited, but he was with Lyla on this one. "Once John's out, we can work to prove he's innocent," he said. "People disappear or die in prisons. The sooner John is free, the better."

Felicity stopped arguing with him, but remained adamant about not getting involved. Oliver worried that this difference of opinion might damage their renewed closeness, but fortunately she seemed determined to prove that they could be a couple even when they didn't align on everything. He was grateful for that. He hadn't realized the enormity of the gap her leaving had left in his life until that gap had been closed. Now that it was, he wanted it never to be opened again. So, basically they agreed to disagree.

While this seemed a positive sign for their relationship, the upshot of not working with her meant that he barely saw her for a couple of weeks. Between John's jailbreak and his mayoral duties, he was lucky to find an hour every other day when he wasn't tied up with some activity. It severely restricted his time with her – which was so not a good thing. On the other hand, it also limited his exposure to Donna – which was an unexpected benefit. The few times he did see Felicity's mom, the subject of him, The Arrow, and her daughter didn't come up at all. Donna seemed pleased to see Felicity happy, and he began to think that the entire threesome issue was behind them. It had become a silly mistake that he and Felicity would laugh about years from now.

By the evening of Felicity's awards dinner, things appeared to be back on track. John was out of prison and Donna would be returning to Vegas in a couple of days. He anticipated having far more time with Felicity in the future, maybe even every night. He hoped it wouldn't be long before they were back to living together.

Still…as good as things were, he was disappointed that he couldn't actually _attend_ her dinner. He cursed himself for not planning better, and he went into the joint Star City-Central City council meeting that evening with something less than his best attitude. Sitting at the head of the table in the City Hall boardroom, he listened with increasing frustration as the two councils argued over how to manage funding for the high-speed train improvements. The councils had worked well together in the past, but tonight it seemed as though they couldn't agree on anything. He glanced at his watch and barely refrained from rolling his eyes. They were 30 minutes into the meeting and it felt has if they had been there three hours. At this rate, they'd still be talking past midnight.

He allowed his mind to wander to Felicity and _her_ evening. He wondered which dress she had worn to her dinner at Star City College. He wondered what lingerie she had worn _under_ the dress that she had worn to her dinner at Star City College. He imagined removing said dress to find out. Would he need to work with buttons or a zipper? Down the back or the side? And would her hair be up – giving him the chance to pull out the pins and watch it tumble to her shoulders? His imaginary undressing of Felicity was far more interesting than the current discussion on municipal bonds, and he found himself drifting even further away from the debate in the boardroom.

Until he noticed that the room had gone silent and both city councils were staring at him.

He cleared his throat. "Ummm…yes?"

"We asked," Councilman Rice said, with a curious expression on his face, "whether you thought the state might be willing to provide matching funds for some of the rail improvements? The project should provide jobs for quite some time – maybe even permanently. It seems like it might qualify for the matching program."

"Oh," Oliver nodded, hoping he looked as though he were in deep contemplation of the question. "Yes. We've actually begun discussing state funding with the Governor's office. They're looking for a more detailed proposal as well as confirmation that both cities are aligned on the plan before they'll commit – but I think it's a real possibility."

The Councilman looked pleased. "That's good news, Mayor Queen."

"Yes it is. But as I said, it's important to the Governor that both of our cities are in agreement over the plan – which means we need to resolve our funding issues. So maybe we can get back to discussing them."

The councils took the hint and once more began hashing out options for cost allocation. Oliver listened for a few minutes, and when it looked as though the discussion was flowing freely he surreptitiously took his phone out of his pocket.

He texted quickly to Felicity: _What color are you wearing tonight?_

She must have been bored, too, because the answer came back almost instantaneously: _Red_. He cringed when his phone _dinged_ to signal the incoming text and quickly switched it to mute. Fortunately, the councils were beginning to argue again and didn't notice the sound.

He continued typing: _My favorite color for you. How's the dinner?_

_Like I predicted. Rubbery chicken. Good wine, tho._

_And your mom?_

_She's enjoying herself. Sitting next to one of the College's professors, telling tales about my brilliance as a child._

Before Oliver could respond, she followed with: _But when we first got here, I thought I was going to have to pull her off of Mr. Dennis. She was ready to beat him with a wine bottle for firing me from Palmer._

Oliver froze at that last message, his thumbs poised over the phone. What the fuck was William Dennis doing at Felicity's awards dinner? It had only been a few weeks since the man had pointed a gun at her and tried to force her to take Vertigo. And now he was at her banquet? More importantly, why was Felicity joking about it – why wasn't she taking it more seriously? Hoping his scowl didn't draw the attention of the council members, he quickly typed: _Why's Dennis there?_

_He's a trustee of the college._

A trustee of the college? What kind of answer was that? The man was also an accused felon. Where the hell did he get the balls to show up at a dinner honoring the woman he had so recently threatened? Oliver could feel his scowl deepen as he jabbed at the keys on his phone: _He's also out on parole awaiting trial. He shouldn't be there._

_Yeah, well you know, innocent until proven guilty…_

_Is there any security at the dinner?_

_Campus police._

Oh wonderful, well that was reassuring. Oliver wasn't even sure the City College campus police carried guns – although when he thought about it, an untrained rent-a-cop with a sidearm would probably make things worse. He typed rapidly: _Fellatio – you should leave now. It's not safe. I'm sure Dennis isn't there to congratulate you._

_Fellatio?_

_Felicity. Fucking autocorrect._

There was a pause – far too long for Oliver's liking. She finally came back with: _It's MY dinner, I can hardly walk out on it without appearing ungrateful. There are a lot of people here. It's probably safer to wait til it ends and then leave with the crowd. And why does 'fellatio' pop up in your autocorrect? Is it a word you text a lot? You haven't used it in msgs to me._

Oliver snorted impatiently. The council's secretary looked up from taking minutes, but no one else seemed to notice. _That is so not the point, FELICITY._

_Relax, Oliver. I'm just pulling your leg – and maybe later I can pull other things._ She added a winking emoji to her text.

Oliver closed his eyes in frustration. She wasn't getting it. _You need to take this seriously._

Another long pause: _I am, Oliver. I'm also being logical. If I leave now on my own, he could follow me and no one will see. Campus security is here to protect the Dean of the College. I'll stick by the Dean and ask him to walk me and Mom to my car._

Oliver reluctantly conceded that she had a point. It probably _was_ safer to surround herself with people and move with the crowd. Surely Dennis wouldn't be stupid enough to go after her in front of a hundred witnesses. On the other hand, the man had attempted to take her out merely because he believed she had damaged his reputation. What the hell might he be willing to do now that she was responsible for getting him arrested? The more he thought about it, the less reassured Oliver felt. He glanced around the table. The council meeting was going to go on for at least another three hours. He needed to do _something_.

In a flash of inspiration, he texted Diggle: _John, can you get to Star City College? Felicity's there for an awards dinner and she's in trouble._

The answer came back quickly: _What kind of trouble?_

_William Dennis from the Palmer BOD threatened her about a month ago. He was arrested, but is out on bail and is at her dinner now. I think he might try something._

_Are the cops there? I'm a fugitive…_

Oliver grimaced. He could almost hear Felicity telling him that this was why breaking John out of prison wasn't a good idea. There was always a chance he could be recognized and it limited his ability to go certain places, especially in his hometown. It had to kill Digg to hear that Felicity might be in danger and not be able to jump all over it. Other than Lyla and his son, Oliver was willing to bet there wasn't a person John cared about more in the world. Still, there was another option…

_Go as Spartan_.

There was a pause: _Right. I'm on it. Should take me an hour to stop at the lair and then get to the college._

_Thnx._

Oliver texted Felicity once more: _Spartan will be there in a hour. Please wait til he arrives and leave with him._

Thankfully, she didn't argue. Instead, she just responded: _Will do._

Oliver glanced at the faces of the city council members. They were fully engaged in their debate, oblivious to his agitation. He felt some relief knowing John was headed to the college, but an hour felt like a long time. They should have found a hiding spot for John closer to the lair. From City Hall, Oliver could be suited up and at the college in half that time. He paused at that thought. He could be near Felicity in 30 minutes.

He made a decision.

Tapping the table for the council members' attention, he did his best to put a distressed look on his face. Given the circumstances, it really wasn't hard. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, hesitating when they all looked at him. "I'm going to have to step out for a few minutes. I had sushi this afternoon and I think some of it must not have been very fresh." He rested a hand on his stomach for emphasis. "I'm just going to step down the hallway to the men's room…"

A few of the council members looked skeptical, but more looked sympathetic as they nodded their heads in understanding. Without waiting for questions, Oliver waved weakly at the men and women around the table and then walked rapidly out of the boardroom, doubling over as if in abdominal pain. When he was out of sight, he broke into a run.

* * *

 

Thirty minutes later he was at the college, peering inside the large auditorium-turned-banquet-facility from the hallway just outside one of the doors. He was fully armed in his Arrow gear and felt a little foolish. There had to be close to a hundred people there, seated in groups of eight around circular tables with the requisite white tablecloth, flower arrangement, and remnants of dinner. Things looked calm – supporting Felicity's refusal to overreact to Dennis's presence. Nearly two thirds of the attendees were female (not surprising, given that the award was coming from Girls in Tech), and some of the tables held signs announcing representation from organizations such as the Society of Women Engineers and Girls Who Code. Everyone appeared to be having a good time, and bursting in there now with his bow drawn did not seem like a good idea. He elected to remain hidden in the shadow outside the door.

He spotted Felicity quickly. She was seated at a table close to the dais, watching a woman Oliver had never seen before give a speech. He noted briefly that she was indeed wearing red, her hair was most definitely up, and the combination was as enticing in reality as it had been in his imagination. He also spied William Dennis a few tables away, presumably sitting with the mostly male trustees of the college. Dennis appeared sanguine. He took his eyes off the speaker to glance at Felicity a number of times, but his expression was blank.

The same couldn't be said for Donna Smoak. Seated at Felicity's table, she regularly directed a glare toward Dennis that was probably melting the whipped cream on his uneaten piece of apple pie. The look sent a shiver down Oliver's spine; it was far more severe than the one she had given him when she'd told him to get his relationship sorted out with Felicity. He reflected that if Felicity was her father's daughter when it came to tech, she was definitely her mother's daughter when it came to feistiness. Donna Smoak was a force of nature. Oliver wondered if the woman might ever be open to taking lessons in hand-to-hand combat. He knew from experience that fighting was 10 percent athleticism, 40 percent training, and 50 percent attitude. She certainly had the attitude.

"In an era where we need more technical skills from all our young people," the woman on the dais was saying, "and particularly from our girls, Felicity Smoak has been a shining example of what a woman in the sciences can accomplish. Ray Palmer was quick to recognize her talents and brought her into his company as a vice president, requesting on his death that she become the CEO. In her short tenure as head of Palmer Technologies," the speaker joined Donna Smoak in directing a glare toward William Dennis, "Felicity pioneered a number of new technologies that will eventually change the way people live. Not only has she been successful professionally, but she has also shown compassion and generosity in all she does, particularly toward the citizens of Star City. So please join me in congratulating Felicity Smoak on being the recipient of this year's Girls in Tech's Outstanding Achievement Award. I can't think of a woman who deserves it more." The speaker started applauding and Felicity got to her feet.

From his position outside the doorway, Oliver scanned the room. He was pleased to see that people were smiling and clapping, genuinely delighted about Felicity receiving the award. He was less happy to see how the men's eyes lingered on her as she climbed the steps to the podium, although it was certainly understandable. She looked amazing in red, and the knee-length dress she was wearing clung flatteringly to her curves. He supposed it made him a little sexist, but he sometimes found it unbelievable to think that so much intelligence resided in such a beautiful woman. He had been foolish – so damned foolish not to grab onto her and never let go when he first met her, and even more foolish last year to jeopardize it all by not being honest with her. He vowed to himself that he would never be so foolish again.

Felicity reached the podium and shook the speaker's hand, smiling graciously as she accepted the plaque. Then she stepped in front of the microphone.

"I want to thank Girls in Tech for this award," she began.

She didn't get any further.

William Dennis sprang to his feet and shouted loudly, "Before this farce continues, everyone here should know that Felicity Smoak isn't who she pretends to be. The last thing she's done is show 'compassion and generosity' toward Star City. She's consorted with criminals and the Palmer Board of Directors was justified in firing her – as Chairman, I can assure you of that."

Well, so much for Dennis appearing sanguine and not attacking Felicity. While the attack wasn't physical, he had obviously come to the dinner with the intent of disrupting it and discrediting her. Oliver's senses went on high alert and he shifted onto the balls of his feet, poised for action should Dennis decide to make a more aggressive move.

In the banquet room, over a hundred pairs of eyes turned from the dais to stare at Dennis. Oliver unexpectedly felt the urge to smile. If the man's goal was to cast a shadow on Felicity's credibility, he hadn't picked a very receptive audience. Many of the women's groups here to see her receive the award were the same groups that had protested her firing months ago, and the eyes watching Dennis now held open hostility. Oliver could almost see the moment that Palmer's Board Chairman realized his plan was back-firing; his facial expression morphed from arrogance to doubt, and finally to incredulity. Dennis turned away from the women to glance desperately at the male attendees for support, but even they were shaking their heads as if to say: _Dennis is losing it -_ _he must be cracking under the pressure of his upcoming trial_.

Still, the man wasn't ready to give up. Evidently, he felt he had an ace up his sleeve and he played it now. "She's a friend of The Green Arrow," he announced with conviction. "A friend of Star City's _vigilante_! She helps him – and my guess is she's been helping him ever since he showed up. If she's such an upstanding citizen, why would she be involved with _The Arrow?_ "

The room was silent for a few seconds. Then someone laughed disbelievingly.

"The Green Arrow? Really?" the individual asked sarcastically. "Where's _her_ bow?"

"I'm telling the truth," Dennis insisted. "I've seen the two of them together."

"When?" A woman called out, just as another asked, "Where?"

"I saw them about a month ago at Palmer Tech," Dennis stated. "It was the night I…" he suddenly hesitated and his eyes dropped to the ground. "The night was arrested," he continued more quietly. There were a few more snorts of laughter from the crowd. Recovering some of his bluster, Dennis continued, "The Green Arrow assaulted me and she was with him."

"We all heard about that on the news," a middle-aged woman in a black dress said loudly. "He assaulted you because you had Vertigo." She rose from her chair to glare across the room at Dennis. "Everyone knows the Green Arrow fights drug pushers. If Felicity Smoak's helping him do that, then I say more power to her."

"I agree," the woman next to her stood up as well. "I've got kids in high school. A couple of years ago the dealers were hanging around the streets by the school. Now they're afraid to go near it. If that's not doing something good for the citizens of Star City, then I don't know what is."

There were more nods of assent, and more women getting to their feet. Oliver felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the temperature. He'd never taken on the mantel of The Arrow for gratitude, but it was nonetheless heartwarming to hear these women say that they appreciated what he was doing. They were also effectively diffusing William Dennis. With every statement of support for The Arrow, the man looked a little more deflated. The only downer was that Oliver preferred Felicity's role to remain anonymous. If it became common knowledge that she knew and helped The Arrow, then she could become a target.

Up on the dais, the blonde woman in question was watching events unfold, saying nothing. Knowing how fiercely Felicity believed in what they did, Oliver prayed she wouldn't launch into a heart-felt defense of the Green Arrow and confirm her efforts to assist him. It would be entirely like her to voice her convictions, regardless of the risk. But then, she also was a smart woman.

She cleared her throat. "Ladies and gentlemen," she began quietly, and eyes began to turn in her direction, "as flattering as this all is – or I think it is, anyway - I can't take credit _or_ blame for The Arrow's work helping Star City. Like many of you, I do believe he has the city's best interests at heart, and I certainly remember what he did for us when we came under attack from Damien Darhk. But Mr. Dennis overstates my…importance. What happened at Palmer Tech a few weeks ago – well, I was just lucky enough to be rescued by the Green Arrow, the same way some of you or your families may have been. There isn't any more to it than that."

_Nice work, Felicity,_ Oliver thought, _you talked your way out of that one_. There were more smiles and nods from the audience, particularly the women. Everyone was buying her explanation and she had avoided being labeled as an accomplice to the Green Arrow. The tension in the room eased and people started taking their seats again.

"So now that we've sorted that out," Felicity smiled, "I'd like to get back to the matter at hand. I'd like to thank Girls in Tech for-"

But Dennis wasn't finished. "She works with The Arrow and I'll prove it to you!" he shouted. Then he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a gun, pointing the weapon at Felicity. "The Arrow will be here in less than five minutes," he stated confidently, "because _she's_ being threatened and he takes care of his own. My guess is he knows exactly where she is and he's not far away." He started walking toward the dais, keeping the gun aimed at Felicity.

Everyone in the room gasped, and a few people ducked under their table.

Oh fuck, fuck and triple fuck. How could Oliver have missed the gun? He must have been too distracted by Felicity in that damned dress. Now he was going to have to go in there to stop Dennis, confirming for everyone in the room the man's assertion that Felicity did indeed work with The Arrow. Oliver looked toward the dais to see whether there were any other options. He saw Felicity briefly assess the distance to the exits as well as search for opportunities for cover. There weren't many; any available options were yards away and she was wearing her usual, ridiculously high (but sexy) heels - which weren't exactly made for running. She was definitely going to need help.

It didn't look like it was going to come from the floor. The men at Dennis's table were moving nervously away from him, their eyes focused on the gun. The two campus security officers stationed at the back of the room were frozen in place – completely useless as well. Dennis continued walking slowly toward Felicity, waving the gun menacingly. There really was no choice; The Arrow was going to have to fulfill Dennis's prediction and rescue Felicity. Oliver pulled an arrow out of his quiver and started his charge through the doorway.

_Thwack!_

Donna Smoak smashed her chair against William Dennis's back just as the man was reaching the stairs to the dais. The chair was of the metal folding variety, sturdy enough to cause Dennis to fall face down on the floor, the gun flying out of his hand. As people watched in stunned silence, the weapon was recovered by a gray-haired, seventy-something woman in a powder-blue suit. She expertly checked the clip, then pointed the gun at Dennis in a two-handed, professional stance.

"Don't move, motherfucker," she said crisply, "unless you want to leave here as less of a man."

Every male in the room instinctively put his hands over his crotch.

Every male, that is, except William Dennis. For him, the warning turned out to be unnecessary. Donna Smoak and her chair had rendered him unconscious – at least for the moment.

Astonished...and relieved, Oliver slunk back into the shadow of the door, unsure of what to do next. There didn't seem any point in going into the banquet room now; he could hear sirens in the distance, signaling that the police were already on their way. On the other hand, he was reluctant to leave until he was certain Dennis had been completely neutralized. He glanced at the clock and marveled at how quickly events had unfolded. In the space of fifteen minutes the awards dinner had gone from normal (if a little boring), to panicked, and now to surprisingly calm - thanks to the women of Star City. He was willing to bet that not nearly so much had happened back at the city council meeting. Hell, they were probably _still_ arguing over funding.

He stuck around long enough to see the police cuff Dennis, and then quietly turned and began making his way down the hallway to the building exit. He was about twenty yards from the exterior doors when he heard footsteps behind him and felt a blow to the back of his head, hard enough to make him stagger forward. As he recovered his balance and spun around with his fist raised, it dawned on him that there might be more to Dennis's plan than simply discrediting Felicity at the dinner. Maybe Dennis was working with someone else to draw The Arrow out for other reasons. Maybe this whole thing was a trap. Maybe it was part of a larger conspiracy.

Maybe Donna Smoak had just hit him on the back of the head with her purse.

He barely recognized her in time to redirect his punch into empty air. The woman was glaring at him fearlessly, as if she went toe-to-toe with vigilantes all the time. He thought about his earlier musings on Donna and hand-to-hand combat, and decided that additional lessons in fighting probably were not needed.

He turned on the voice modulator. "What the hell was _that_ for?" he asked her incredulously. Fortunately, the modulator made the question sound fierce rather than confused - which is how he really felt.

If Donna was intimidated by his deep monotone, she didn't show it. She squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye. "It's a warning," she said sharply, "to stay out of my daughter's love life."

Oh crap – they were back to the _threesome discussion_ again. And here he'd thought they'd put it behind them. Apparently that might have been true for Oliver Queen, but not for the Green Arrow.

He decided to play dumb. Admittedly, that approach hadn't worked too well when he'd talked to Donna as Oliver, but maybe he would have more success with it now as The Arrow. He raised the hand carrying the bow, just to remind the woman who she was talking to. "Excuse me, but who exactly is your daughter?"

"Don't screw with me, mister. You know damn well my daughter is Felicity Smoak, and I know damn well what you've been up to with her and Oliver Queen. I walked into her loft a few weeks ago when the three of you were engaged in some _collaborative synergy_ in her shower."

" _Collaborative synergy?_ "

"It's a euphemism for a threesome, buddy. You, Oliver Queen, and my daughter. And if you think I'm bluffing about catching you guys at it in the loft, I can tell you for a fact that you wear black boxer briefs under those leather pants. I could ask you to drop 'em, but we both know I'm right."

Oliver sighed, the sound coming out more like a groan through the modulator. "Mrs. Smoak-"

"Ms."

"I'm sorry?"

"Ms. Smoak. I use my maiden name, as does Felicity."

"Well, _Ms_. Smoak, I would never do anything to hurt your daughter. She's an amazing woman."

Donna stared at him for a moment and then her expression softened. "Look, I know that you wouldn't hurt her deliberately," she said more gently. "It's clear that you care for her and mean well. I was glad to see you at the dinner tonight…hiding outside the door even if your services weren't needed…and I hope you'll always be there for her when she's in trouble." Then she shook her head. "But she has a chance for a real life with Oliver Queen. Those two are meant for each other, even if they're sometimes too stubborn to see it. Now that they've found each other again, I don't want anything to screw it up. And that includes you."

Oliver stared back, doing his best to appear like he was pondering her advice. He was a little surprised at how far Donna would go in defense of her daughter's relationship with him - that is, him, Oliver Queen. It was kind of gratifying. "I understand, Ms. Smoak," he said with a great show of reluctance. "I want Felicity to be happy, too, and if that means leaving her so that she can be with Oliver Queen alone, I will do that. But," he continued, as a smile began to emerge on Donna's face, "if Queen messes up again, I can't swear that I won't try to step in."

Donna nodded, "That's fair. I'd rather have her be with you than be with no one. I know you can keep her safe. And given how athletic you are, I'm sure the sex is amazing."

Oliver nearly choked and decided not to deny or confirm that last statement. It seemed like a good time to make his exit. "Well, Ms. Smoak, it's been…interesting…meeting you, and I can assure you I've taken your advice to heart."

She smiled again. "That's all I can ask. Goodnight, mister…Arrow." And she turned and headed back in the direction of the banquet hall, her purse dangling off her shoulder. Oliver wondered what the hell she kept in it – it sure packed one hell of a punch. He watched her until she disappeared from sight, and then switched off the voice modulator.

"You wanna tell me what that was all about?"

Oliver turned to see Diggle emerging from the shadows. "Just how much of that did you hear?" he asked John.

"Pretty much the whole thing. Sounds like a lot happened while I was away." John's voice was bland, but there was a definite lift to the corners of his mouth.

Oliver rubbed his forehead, careful not to dislodge the hood. "Well, Felicity and I are back together, which is the good news. The bad news is that Donna found out during a surprise visit to the loft. She saw The Arrow's equipment and clothing scattered about and came to the conclusion that Felicity, Oliver Queen and The Arrow are having a threesome."

Diggle snorted.

"I'm glad you find this so amusing, John."

"Well, you have to admit, Oliver, it is a little ironic. Remember a couple years ago when you were wrestling with your identities and which, if either, man could be with Felicity? You decided neither Oliver nor The Arrow could be a part of her life and ran away to Nanda Parbat. Turns out all you needed to know was that Felicity was okay with a threesome. You could have stuck around and _both_ of you could have been with her."

"Funny, John, very funny."

Diggle grinned, and Oliver braced himself for more ribbing. Fortunately, John decided to change the subject. "So, it sounds like Felicity doesn't need the help of either The Arrow or Spartan tonight?"

Oliver shook his head. "No, neither one of us was needed. The women of Star City took care of Dennis, all on their own." He suddenly laughed. "The guy never really had a chance."

"Yeah, well you should know by now, Oliver, that you don't mess with the sisterhood. Since we're both out, I don't suppose you have time for a drink in the lair? It's been a while since we knocked back a whiskey."

"I'd like to, John, but I need to get back to City Hall. I'm supposed to be in the men's room, sick on bad sushi at the moment."

"Of course you are, Oliver. Talk to you tomorrow?"

"Yup."


	5. Whiskey with Diggle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night after Felicity's awards dinner...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those who like OTA will hopefully enjoy this chapter. Thank you, as always, for continuing to read and comment.  
> AO3 is being fussy today and has failed on about 4 attempts to preview this chapter. So I'm throwing caution to the wind and just posting it....hope it's ok.

Felicity headed to the lair the evening after her awards dinner feeling as if a hundred pounds had been lifted from her shoulders. There was no way William Dennis was coming after her any time soon; he had destroyed his chances of getting out on bail a second time when he'd waved a gun in front of a hundred people. And her mother had boarded a plane back to Las Vegas earlier that afternoon, returning privacy and quiet to the loft. Felicity was looking forward to an easy night helping Oliver catch a couple of unchallenging criminals and then bringing him home with her and taking him to bed. She hadn't seen him for two days. It was going to be nice to reconnect with no interruptions.

She stepped out of the elevator, surprised to find Oliver and John already in the lair despite the relatively early hour. The men were slouched comfortably in their seats on the computer platform and she got the impression they'd been there for some time. Both were grinning in that buddy-ish way men have when they've been ribbing each other about something. Digg's grin looked a little triumphant and Oliver's a little sheepish, so Felicity suspected John had come out on top of whatever debate they'd been having. She wondered if it had something to do with _her_. John had expressed nothing but happiness over his two friends becoming a couple again, but that didn't mean he was above teasing Oliver about losing his status as an unattached man. Felicity knew that married guys, including John, took particular delight in seeing their single pals become "domesticated." At any rate, whatever the pair had been talking about, they were clearly both in good humor and having a good time.

She spotted a bottle of whiskey perched precariously near one of her servers and their silly grins made even more sense. Not only was this two close friends kidding one another, she realized; it was two close friends kidding one another…encouraged by alcohol. She felt happy for Oliver. He seldom had the opportunity to relax and he almost _never_ let himself get loosened up by drink. Tonight he was letting go with the person he trusted most in the world – other than her, of course. Felicity didn't know how full the whiskey bottle had been when they'd started, but there was less than half remaining now. She figured that meant a couple of glasses apiece and maybe even more. She also decided that she'd put her foot down if either man suggested suiting up. They deserved a night off and it wouldn't be safe to go out in their present conditions…not that they seemed in a particular hurry to pursue criminals.

In fact, Oliver and John looked as though the thought of suiting up was the furthest thing from their minds. They both seemed firmly planted in their chairs.

"I take it the bad guys are getting a reprieve this evening," she said lightly, pointing at the bottle.

John nodded. "We figured since we didn't have the chance to toast you last night when you received your award at the college, we'd toast you tonight."

Felicity laughed. "That's very thoughtful of you. Just how long have you been toasting?"

John shrugged. "We started half a bottle ago. Curtis joined us for a little while, but he's a lightweight so we sent him home. Why don't _you_ grab a glass, Felicity? There's always another bottle if we finish this one."

Felicity thought about it. She really wasn't much of a whiskey drinker. It tended to burn on the way down and make her head throb the following morning. Wine was more her thing. On the other hand, it had been a long time since the lair had been occupied by only the three of them and it felt good – like coming home after a lengthy, difficult trip. And they'd already written off doing any work for the night so why not imbibe a little with her besties? She smiled. "You talked me into it."

"Great. Glasses are over there."

She retrieved a glass and tipped some whiskey into it, stopping when it was about a third full. If they thought Curtis was a lightweight, she was pretty sure they would put her into the flyweight class. She grabbed a chair and wheeled it next to Oliver's before sitting down. He hadn't said a word since she'd walked into the lair, but he was looking at her very warmly and she had a premonition that neither of them would be getting a lot of sleep that night. His hand came over to caress her thigh, pulling their two chairs closer together as he did so.

Diggle cleared his throat and Oliver removed his hand.

"I heard Dennis was denied bail?" John asked Felicity.

She nodded. "Yeah…I guess waving a gun around and threatening people at the awards dinner worried the judge. Unless," she added to Oliver, "you had something to do with it?"

Oliver shook his head. "No, the DA pushed for no bail without encouragement from the Mayor's office. I think the DA is going to recommend that a psychological evaluation be performed on Dennis. The man seems to have an unhealthy obsession with you." He clenched one fist as he spoke.

Felicity thought about that. "I don't know that it's me so much as trying to prove that I was unfit to lead Palmer Tech," she said. "He's certainly taken extreme measures to justify firing me." She shrugged ruefully. "I'm not sure how I do it, but I seem to have a talent for attracting weirdos. There was the lacrosse player my freshman year at MIT, then Cooper-"

"Hey!" Oliver interrupted. "I'm not a weirdo."

She smiled. "No, present company excepted of course. I took a big step up when I got involved with you." She reached out to touch his cheek and his eyes darkened.

"Oh, I don't know," John said cheerfully, "Oliver strikes me as pretty weird. He likes dressing up, for one thing. And remember his eye makeup phase, Felicity? Before Barry made him the mask? If only the criminal element knew The Arrow used cleansing lotion every evening after taking out bad guys."

Felicity laughed. "True enough. I guess Oliver _does_ have his quirks. Fortunately, I kind of like them." She stroked his cheek lightly and then moved her hand into his hair. He'd let it grow a bit recently and she loved the feel of it between her fingers. It was soft and a little tickly. Hoping she wasn't embarrassing John by her display of affection, she slid her hand to the back of Oliver's head to gently caress it.

And then stopped.

Because something didn't feel right. She knew the shape of Oliver's head like she knew the keys on her computer keyboard and there was definitely something out of place. In fact, she could swear there was something _extra_ back there.

She moved her hand through his hair again – this time more experimentally than affectionately.

Yup…there it was; it hadn't been her imagination. There was a lump the size of an egg on the back of Oliver's head. And not a Medium or Large egg, but an Extra Large or even Jumbo. The size that costs a dollar more per dozen in the supermarket. She was quite certain it hadn't been there two days ago.

She peered into his face. "Oliver, you have a lump on the back of your head."

He shot John a guilty look and then nodded briefly. "I know."

"How on earth did it get there? It wasn't there two days ago and you said you were spending last night with the city councils. You even texted me from the meeting."

He nodded again, not meeting her eyes. "I did."

"So what happened – you went out and did a little free-lance Arrowing after the meeting without me? You know you should always have backup. Some thug was able to get the jump on you and hit you on the head?"

There was a loud snort from across the computer platform and Felicity looked up to see John smirking at Oliver. Oliver glared at him in return. Evidently, John knew something about the lump – something that neither man had shared with her.

At least not yet...

She decided to start with Diggle. He was generally less stubborn than Oliver. She gave him her best intimidating stare and used her loud voice. "I take it you know something about this, John?"

He sobered and returned her stare warily. "I might."

"And?" Felicity asked at the same time that Oliver warned, "John-"

Diggle glanced between the two of them and evidently decided he was more afraid of Felicity. He shrugged apologetically at Oliver before saying to her, "Your boyfriend stepped out of the city council meeting for a little emergency Green Arrow activity last night. He wasn't gone long, though, and he had backup. I was there."

Felicity's brow creased. "The two of you went out last night? What exactly was the emergency?"

Diggle cleared his throat. "You were, actually."

"Me?"

"Yeah. Oliver got worried when you texted him that Dennis was at the awards dinner. He asked me to go pick you up, but I guess he decided I would take too long because he suited up and went there himself."

Felicity frowned, thinking back to the prior evening. "I didn't see either one of you there."

John nodded. "That's because it turned out we weren't needed. The ladies of Star City took care of the problem on their own. We left as the police arrived…I didn't think it would be a good idea for them to find me."

Felicity recalled her mother knocking Dennis out with the chair and chuckled. "Yeah…the women _were_ pretty badass, weren't they? Especially my mom."

Diggle grinned and Felicity noticed an extra twinkle in his eyes. "Your mom did great, Felicity. I can see where you get your courage from. And apparently she even had a little badass left to spare after taking out Dennis." He gave Oliver a meaningful look and Felicity noticed Oliver's knuckles whiten around his whiskey glass.

"I think that's enough, John," he said sharply. Diggle stopped speaking, but the grin didn't leave his face.

Felicity glanced between the two men, trying to make sense of their words. This thing they weren't saying had something to do with her _mother_? What on earth had Mom done to cause such secrecy…and in John's case, such glee? Donna had been with _her_ the entire evening ...well almost. There was that trip she took to the ladies room after knocking out Dennis. Which had lasted over twenty minutes. Hmmmm.

She resumed her loud voice. "Okay, gentlemen. Enough with the secrets. I want to know exactly what happened last night. What do you mean my mother still had a little badass left to spare? Did she do something after hitting Dennis?" When they didn't immediately respond, she added, "Listen guys, unless you want me finding old yearbook photos of both of you online and sharing them with Lyla and Curtis, you _will_ tell me what happened. Oliver, I recall you making some strange hair choices when you were younger and, John, I'm sure you weren't always the physical specimen you are today."

John's grin faded and the two men regarded her cautiously. After a minute, John raised his eyebrows at Oliver as if to say: _You know one of us_ _is going to crack_. _Are you going to_ _tell her or should I?_

Oliver gave John a resigned look and exhaled loudly. "Fine," he said abruptly to Felicity. "I'll tell you what happened last night. It's really not that exciting." He hesitated and then added, "Your mother is the person who hit me on the back of my head, not some thug. _She_ gave me the lump."

Felicity stared at him, certain she hadn't heard correctly. "What did you just say?"

Diggle choked back a laugh but Oliver merely rolled his eyes. "I said," he repeated, enunciating each word slowly, "that your mother gave me this lump." He pointed to the back of his head.

It _still_ didn't make sense. Felicity frowned. "Why on earth would she do that, Oliver? My mother likes you." She looked at him, hoping for some kind of clarification.

The explanation, however, came from John. "It wasn't exactly Oliver your mother was hitting," he said. "It was the Green Arrow." He looked at Oliver and Felicity and his eyes twinkled. They'd been doing that a lot tonight. "Apparently she's not happy with the current bedroom…mathematics, Felicity. She thinks three is one too many in a relationship."

Felicity groaned. "Oh…she's still hung up on the threesome thing."

Oliver nodded. "And she wanted to warn the Green Arrow to stay away from you – to not mess up your relationship with Oliver Queen."

"Oh."

Felicity was starting to understand why John had looked so amused all evening. She could only imagine the conversation he and Oliver had been having before she'd arrived. She shook her head. "Oliver, we need to do something about this. I never thought it was a good idea to let her believe the whole threesome idea and it just seems to be getting worse. We need to find another story that will let her be okay with me dating Oliver Queen and working with The Arrow."

Diggle shrugged. "I don't know," he said blandly. "I think it's kind of cool. I mean, I always thought of you and Oliver as a pretty conventional couple – apart from the arrows, the hacking and taking down the city's worst criminals. It's nice to discover there's a wild side to you both that I haven't seen. I was thinking of mentioning it to Lyla. Maybe the four of us can swing sometime."

Felicity and Oliver stared at John.

"That's a joke, right?" Oliver said at last. "I mean, you and Lyla don't…"

John stared back at him impassively.

Felicity took a big gulp of whiskey. She didn't care if it burned her throat. She needed it.

* * *

 

Oliver lay on top of the comforter on Felicity's bed in nothing but his boxers as she performed her evening ritual in the bathroom. He supposed he needed to start thinking of it as _their_ bed again. It had been over a month since they'd resumed their relationship, and with Donna back in Las Vegas, the loft felt like home. He noted a tingling in his body that had nothing to do with the whiskey he'd drunk earlier. He hoped she wouldn't be too much longer.

"I think we certainly amused John this evening," he called out to her, wanting to be heard over the sounds of tooth-brushing.

"It's good to have him home." Felicity's voice came back a little garbled by the toothpaste in her mouth. "I know I was against breaking him out of prison, but the lair didn't feel the same without him. The three of us together tonight was nice…except for the part about my mom hitting you…and the threesome…and swinging…"

She emerged from the bathroom with her face freshly washed, wearing a tank top and shorts. Oliver loved seeing her like this. He never understood why women were reluctant to go out without makeup. Felicity looked young, vulnerable and very beautiful – a natural sort of beauty that could never be duplicated with cosmetics. She smiled at him as she placed her glasses on the bedside table, and he knew for certain that he was a very lucky man.

He patted the bed by his side. "Get over here," he said softly. "I'm getting lonesome."

She crawled across the comforter to stretch out on her back next to him and he rolled onto his side to face her, propping himself up on one elbow. She sighed contentedly as he rested his other hand on her upper thigh, and she reached up to touch his cheek. As she'd done in the lair, she moved her fingers gently through his hair until her hand ended up at the back of his head. Her eyes never left his.

"My mom really did this?" she asked, lightly tracing the lump on the back of his skull.

He smiled ruefully. "She did," he confirmed, moving his thumb in small circles on her thigh. "She hit me with her purse." He leaned over to kiss her briefly on the lips. "What the hell do women keep in their purses, anyway? Hers packed a hell of a wallop."

Felicity chuckled. "Well, this is my mother we're talking about, so God only knows."

He shook his head. "It's not just her. I've picked up your purse a couple of times and it's pretty damn heavy, too. I don't get it."

She looked up at him, a small smile causing her dimples to appear. "Well, you have to remember that women's clothes don't have as many pockets as men's," she explained. "So we need our purses for our wallets, keys and phones-"

"And?"

"And our shopping discount cards, makeup, and maybe a bottle of aspirin and some gum-"

"And?"

"And a couple of emergency condoms…you know, in case we meet a really hot guy." Her eyes twinkled mischievously on that last one.

He stopped stroking her thigh. "I assume you're kidding."

She nodded. "I am…now."

He decided he didn't want to hear any more about the condoms and leaned down to kiss her again, longer and more passionately this time. "I have to say," he said a little breathlessly, "that I'm not sorry your mom has gone back to Vegas. In addition to being out of purse-walloping range, it's nice to have the loft to ourselves."

She smiled. "It is. We should take advantage of it, though, because she's coming back in a month or so."

"She is?" Oliver tried not to sound too dismayed.

"Yeah," Felicity sighed, her smile fading. "I made the mistake of telling her about the new youth center in the Glades and how I would be going to the opening as your date – the first time we'll be back together as a couple in public. She decided that was something she wanted to see for herself. Plus, I think she's hoping to reconnect with Mr. Lance."

"Oh." What else could he say?

"Which means," Felicity continued, "that we have about a month to decide how we're going to disabuse her of the whole threesome notion."

"Maybe she'll have forgotten it by then."

She laughed. "Dream on, Oliver."

"I will, but right now I have better things to do." And in one, smooth motion, he pulled her tank top over her head and covered her body with his.


End file.
